Langford of the three bars

LANGFORD
OF THE THREE BARS

I TAKE IT I AM THE ONE WANTED," SAID WILLISTOV.

[Page 103]

LANGFORD

OF THE THREE BARS

BY
KATE AND VIRGIL D. BOYLES ,%^Z.

With Illustrations in Color
BY N. C. WYETH

CHICAGO

A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1907

-

COPYRIGHT

A. C. McCi.uRG & Co.
1907

Published April 15, 1907
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England

All rights resetted
Including dramatic rights

THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.

flt/s

TO OUR MOTHER
MRS. MARTHA DILLIN BOYLES

912783

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE ISLAND WITH A MYSTERY 11

II. "ON THE TRAIL" 22

III. LOUISE 31

IV. " MAGGOT " 42

V. AT THE BON AMI 50

VI. "NOTHIN* BUT A HOSS THIEF, ANYWAY ". . 57

VII. THE PRELIMINARY 62

VIII. THE COUNTY ATTORNEY 78

IX. THE ATTACK ON THE LAZY S 90

X. IN WHICH THE X Y Z FIGURES SOMEWHAT

MYSTERIOUSLY 106

XI. "YOU ARE THE BOSS " 121

XII. WAITING 137

XIII. MRS. HIGGINS RALLIES TO HER COLORS . . 150

XIV. CHANNEL ICE l6l

XV. THE GAME is ON 175

XVI. THE TRIAL 181

XVII. GORDON RIDES INTO THE COUNTRY . . . 194

XVIII. FIRE! 203

XIX. AN UNCONVENTIONAL TEA PARTY . . . . 214

XX. THE ESCAPE 224

XXI. THE MOVING SHADOW 242

XXII. THE OUTLAW'S LAST STAND 255

XXIII. THE PARTY AT THE LAZY S 271

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE
" I TAKE IT I AM THE ONE WANTED," SAID

WILLISTON Frontispiece

THE GLOWING IRON STICK IN HIS HAND, JESSE
TURNED AND FACED SQUARELY THE SPOT
WHICH HELD THE WATCHING MAN . . . . 18

LOUISE LOVED TO CLIMB TO THE SUMMIT OF
ONE OF THE BARREN HILLS FLANKING THE
RIVER, AND STAND THERE WHILE THE
WIND BLEW 146

THE LITTLE POSSE STARTED OUT ON ITS JOUR
NEY, THE WIRY MARSHAL FIRST .... 258

LANGFORD

OF THE THREE BARS

CHAPTER I

THE ISLAND WITH A MYSTERY

HE said positively to Bfele 'Ax, his scraggy
buckskin cow pony, that they -would rxck* to
the summit of this one bluff, and that it should
be the last. But he had said the same thing many
times since striking the barren hill region flanking both
sides of the river. Hump after hump had been sur
mounted since the sound of the first promise had tickled
the ears of the tired bronco, humps as alike as the two
humps of a Bactrian camel, the monotonous continuity
of which might very well have confused the mind of
one less at home on these ranges than George Williston.
Even he, riding a blind trail since sun-up, sitting his
saddle with a heavy indifference born of heat and fatigue,
began to think it might be that they were describing
a circle and the sun was playing them strange tricks.
Still, he urged his pony to one more effort; just so
much farther and they would retrace their steps, giving

Langford of the Three Bars

up for this day at least the locating of a small bunch
of cattle, branded a lazy S, missing these three days.

Had not untoward circumstances intervened, he might
still have gone blindly on ; for, laying aside the gam
bling fever that was on him, he could ill afford to lose
the ten or twelve steers somewhere wandering the wide
range or huddled into some safe place, there to abide
the time when a daring rustler might conveniently
play at witchcraft with the brand or otherwise dispose
of them with profit to himself and with credit to his
craft. Moreover, what might possibly never have been
missed from tK<? vdsl* herds of Langford, his neighbor
of /the1 plains 'country, was of most serious import to
Williston for an even weightier reason than the actual
present loss.

The existence of the small and independent ranch
man was becoming precarious. He was being hounded
by two prolific sources of trouble, these sources having
a power and insolent strength contemptuously indiffer
ent to any claim set up in their paths by one weaker
than themselves. On the one hand was the wealthy
cattle owner, whose ever-increasing wealth and conse
quent power was a growing menace to the interests of
the small owner whose very bread and butter depended
upon his ability to buy and sell to advantage. But
with bigger interests slowly but surely gaining control
of the markets, who might foretell the future ? None
beheld the ominous signs more apprehensively than did

[18]

The Island with a Mystery

Williston, who for more than two years, striving des
perately to make good mistakes and misfortunes made
back in Iowa, had felt the pinching grow more and more
acute. On the other hand was the vicious combination
of the boldness, cunning, and greed of the cattle rust
lers who harassed all the range country of the Dakotas
and Nebraska. Annihilation was the sword of Damo
cles held over the head of the small ranchman. A hand
lifted to avert impending doom would have set the air
in vibration and the sword would have fallen. Nemesis
was as sure to follow at the hands of the fellowship of
rustlers as ever it was at the hands of the Secret Tri
bunal of old.

Williston was chafing under his helplessness as the
jaded pony climbed doggedly this last bluff. To the
right of his path a hawk was fluttering frantically just
above the reach of a basilisk-eyed rattlesnake, whose
baneful charm the ill-advised bird was not able to
resist.

" Devil take you, Battle Ax, but you Ye slow," mut
tered Williston, utterly indifferent to the outcome of
this battle royal. " I "d give a good deal to sit down
this minute to some of my little girl's flapjacks and
coffee. But nothing for us, lazy-bones, till midnight —
or morning, more likely. Do walk up as if you had
some little standing in the world of cow ponies. You
have n't, of a surety, but you might make an effort. All
things are possible to him who tries, you know, which is

[13]

Langford of the Three Bars

a tremendous lie, of course. But perhaps it does n't
apply to poor devils like us who are ' has beens.**
Here we are. Ah ! "

There were no more hills. Almost directly at his
feet was one of those precipitous cut-aways that charac
terize the border bluffs of the Missouri River. A few
more steps, in the dark, and horse and rider would
have plunged over a sheer wall of nearly two hundred
feet. As it was, Williston gave a gasp of involuntary
horror which almost simultaneously gave place to one
of wonder and astonishment. He had struck the river
at a point absolutely new to him. It was the time of
low water, and the river, in most of its phases muddy
and sullen-looking, gleamed silver and gold with the
glitter of the setting sun, making a royal highway to
the dwelling-place of Phoebus. A little to the north of
this sparkling highroad lay what would have been an
island in high water, thickly wooded with willows and
cotton woods. Now a long stretch of sand reached
between bluff and island.

Dismounting, with the quick thought that yonder
island might hold the secret of his lost cattle, he crept
as close to the edge as he dared. The cut was sheer
and tawny, entirely devoid of shrubbery by means of
which one might hazard a descent. The sand bed be
gan immediately at the foot of the yellow wall. Even
though one managed to gain the bottom, one would
hardly dare risk the deceitful sands, ever shifting, fair

The Island with a Mystery

and treacherous. Baffled, he was on the point of re
mounting to retrace his steps when he dropped his foot
from the stirrup amazed. Was the day of miracles
not yet passed ?

It was the sun, of course. Twelve hours of sun in the
eyes could play strange tricks and might even cause a
dancing black speck to assume the semblance of a man
on horseback, picking his way easily, though mayhap a
bit warily, across the waste of sand. He seemed to
have sprung from the very bowels of the bluff. Whence
else ? Many a rod beyond and above the ghostly figure
frowned the tawny, wicked cut-away. Path for neither
horse nor man appeared so far as eye could reach. It
must be the sun. But it was not the sun.

Motionless, intent, a figure cast in bronze as the sun
went down, the lean ranchman gazed steadfastly down
upon the miniature man and horse creeping along so
far below. Not until the object of his fixed gaze had
been swallowed by the trees and underbrush did his
muscles relax. This man had ridden as if unafraid.

"What man has done, man can do," ran swiftly
through Williston's brain, and with no idea of aban
doning his search until he had probed the mystery,
he mounted and rode northward, closely examining
the edge of the precipice as he went along for any evi
dence of a possible descent. Presently he came upon a
cross ravine, devoid of shrubbery, too steep for a horse,
but presenting possibilities for a man. With unerring

[15]

Langford of the Three Bars

instinct he followed the cross-cut westward. Soon a
scattering of scrub oaks began to appear, and sumach
already streaked with crimson. A little farther and
the trees began to show spiral wreaths of woodbine and
wild grape. Yet a little farther, and doubtless there
would be outlet for horse as well as man.

But Williston was growing impatient. Besides, the
thought came to him that he had best not risk
his buckskin to the unknown dangers of an untried
trail. What if he should go lame ? Accordingly he
was left behind in a slight depression where he would
be pretty well hidden, and Williston scrambled down
the steep incline alone. When foothold or handhold
was lacking, he simply let himself go and slid, grasping
the first root or branch that presented itself in his
dare-devil course.

Arrived at the bottom, he found his clothes torn and
his hands bleeding ; but that was nothing. With grim
determination he made his way through the ravine and
struck across the sand trail with a sure realization of his
danger, but without the least abatement of his resolu
tion. The sand was firm under his feet. The water
had receded a sufficient length of time before to make
the thought of quicksands an idle fear. No puff of
cloudy smoke leaped from a rifle barrel. If, as he more
than half suspected, the island was a rendezvous for
cattle thieves, a place surely admirably fitted by nature
for such unlawful operations, the rustlers were either

[16]

The Island with a Mystery

overconfident of the inaccessibility of their retreat and
kept no lookout, or they were insolently indifferent to
exposure. The former premise was the more likely.
A light breeze, born of the afterglow, came scurrying
down the river bed. Here and there, where the sand
was finest and driest, it rose in little whirlwinds. No
sound broke the stillness of the summer evening.

What was that ? Coyotes barking over yonder across
the river ? That alien sound ! A man's laugh, a curse,
a heart-breaking bellow of pain. Williston parted ever
so slightly the thick foliage of underbrush that sepa
rated him from the all too familiar sounds and peered
within.

In the midst of a small clearing, — man-made, for
several stumps were scattered here and there, — two
men were engaged in unroping and releasing a red
steer, similar in all essential respects to a bunch of
three or four huddled together a little to one side.
They were all choice, well-fed animals, but there were
thousands of just such beasts herding on the free ranges.
He owned red steers like those, but was there a man in
the cattle country who did not ? They were impossible
of identification without the aid of their brand, and it
happened that they were so bunched as to completely
baffle Williston in his eager efforts to decipher the
stamp that would disclose their ownership. That they
were the illegitimate prey of cattle rustlers, he never
for one moment doubted. The situation was conclusive.
2 [17]

Langford of the Three Bars

A bed of glowing embers constantly replenished and
kept at white heat served to lighten up the weird scene
growing dusky under the surrounding cottonwoods.

Williston thought he recognized in one of the men
— the one who seemed to be directing the procedure oj
this little affair, whose wide and dirty hat-rim was sc
tantalizingly drawn over his eyes — the solitary ridei
whose unexpected appearance had so startled him B
short time before. Both he and his companion were
dressed after the rough, nondescript manner of cattle
men, both were gay, laughing and talkative, and seem
ingly as oblivious to possible danger as if engaged ir
the most innocent and legitimate business.

A little to the left and standing alone was an odd
creature of most striking appearance — a large, spotted
steer with long, peculiar-looking horns. It were quite
impossible to mistake such a possession if it had once
been yours. Its right side was turned full toward
Williston and in the centre of the hip stood out dis
tinctly the cleanly cauterized three perpendicular line.s
that were the identifying mark of the Three Bars ranch,
one of those same big, opulent, self-centred outfit*
whose astonishingly multiplying sign was becoming
such a veritable and prophetic writing on the walJ
for Williston and his kind.

Who then had dared to drive before him an animal
so branded? The boldness of the transgression and
the insolent indifference to the enormity of attendant
[18]

The Island with a Mystery

consequences held him for the moment breathless. His
attention was once more called to the movements of
the men. The steer with which they had been working
was led away still moaning with surprise and pain, and
another brought forward from the reserve bunch. The
branded hip, if there was a brand, was turned away
from Williston. The bewildered animal was cleverly
roped and thrown to the ground. The man who was
plainly directing the affair, he of the drooping hat and
lazy shoulders, stepped to the fire. Williston held his
breath with the intensity of his interest. The man
stooped and took an iron from the fire. It was the end-
gate rod of a wagon and it was red-hot. In the act of
straightening himself from his stooping position, the
glowing iron stick in his right hand, he flung from his
head with an easy swing the flopping hat that inter
fered with the nicety of sight requisite in the work
he was about to do, and faced squarely that quiet,
innocent-looking spot which held the watching man in
its brush ; and in the moment in which Williston drew
hastily back, the fear of discovery beating a tattoo of
cold chills down his spine, recognition of the man came
to him in a clarifying burst of comprehension.

But the man evidently saw nothing and suspected
nothing. His casual glance was probably only a mani
festation of his habitual attitude of being never off his
guard. He approached the prostrate steer with indif
ference to any meaning that might be attached to the

[19]

Langford of the Three Bars

soft snapping of twigs caused by Williston's involun
tary drawing back into the denser shadows.

" Y ' don't suppose now, do you, that any blamec
interferin' ofTcer is a-loafin1 round where he ought n
to be ? " said the second man with a laugh.

Williston, much relieved, again peered cautiousl
through the brush. He was confident a brand wa
about to be worked over. He must see — what ther
was to see.

" Easy now, boss," said the second man with an offi
cious warning. He was a big, beefy fellow with a heavj
hardened face. Williston sounded the depths of hi
memory but failed to place him among his acquainl
ances in the cow country.

" Gamble on me," returned the leader with read
good-nature, " I '11 make it as clean as a boiled shirt,
take it you don't know my reputation, pard. Wei
you '11 learn. You 're all right, only a trifle greer
that's all."

With a firm, quick hand, he began running th
searing iron over the right hip of the animal. Whe
he had finished and the steer, released, staggered to i1
feet, Williston saw the brand clearly. It was J R. 1
it had been worked over another brand, it certainly wa
a clean job. He could see no indications of any ol
markings whatsoever.

" Too clean to be worked over a lazy S," though
Williston, " but not over three bars."
[20]

The Island with a Mystery

" There were six reds," said the chief, surveying the
remaining bunch with a critical eye. " One must have
wandered off while I was gone. Get out there in the
brush and round him up, Alec, while I tackle this
long-horned gentleman."

Williston turned noiselessly away from the scene
which so suddenly threatened danger. Both men were
fully armed and would brook no eavesdropping. Once
more he crossed the sand in safety and found his horse
where he had left him, up the ravine. He vaulted into
the saddle and galloped away into the qui^t night.

[21]

CHAPTER II

"ON THE TRAIL"

WLLISTON himself came to the door. His
thin, scholarly face looked drawn and worn
in the mid-day glare. A tiredness in the
eyes told graphically of a sleepless night.

" I ""in glad to see you, Langford," he said. " It was
good of you to come. Leave your horse for Mary.
She '11 give her water when she 's cooled off a bit."

" You sent for me, Williston ? " asked the young
man, rubbing his face affectionately against the wet
neck of his mare.

" I did. It was good of you to come so soon."

" Fortunately, your messenger found me at home.
As for the rest, Sade, here, has n't her beat in the cow
country, if she is only a cow pony, eh, Sadie ? "

At that moment, Mary Williston came into the open
doorway of the rude claim shanty set down in the very
heart of the sun-seared plain which stretched away into
heart-choking distances from every possible point of
the compass. And sweet she was to look upon, though
tanned and glowing from close association with the
ardent sun and riotous wind. Her auburn hair, more
reddish on the edges from sunburn, was fine and soft

[22]

;' On the Trail"

and there was much of it. It seemed newly brushed
and suspiciously glossy. One sees far on the plains, and
two years out of civilization are not enough to make a
girl forget the use of a mirror, even if it be but a
broken sliver, propped up on a pine-board dressing
table. She looked strangely grown-up despite her
short, rough skirt and badly scuffed leather riding-
leggings. Langford stared at her with a startled look
of mingled admiration and astonishment. v She came
forward and put her hand on the mare's bridle. She
was not embarrassed in the least. But color came into
the stranger's face. He swept his wide hat from his
head quickly.

" No indeed, Miss Williston ; I '11 water Sade my
self."

" Please let me. I 'd love to.1'

" She 's used to it, Langford," said Williston in his
quiet, gentlemanly voice, the well-bred cadence of
which spoke of a training far removed from the harass-
ments and harshnesses of life in this plains country.
" You see, she is the only boy I have. She must of
necessity be my chore boy as well as my herd boy. In
her leisure moments she holds down her kitchen claim ;
I don't know how she does it, but she does. You had
better let her do it ; she will hold it against you if you
don't."

" But I could n't have a woman doing my grooming
for me. Why, the very idea ! "

[23]

Langford of the Three Bars

He sprang into the saddle.

" But you waited for me to do it," said the girl, look
ing up at him curiously.

" Did I ? I did n't mean to. Yes, I did, too. But
I beg your pardon. You see — say, look here ; are you
the ' little girl ' who left word for me this morning ? "

" Yes. Why not ? "

" Well, you see," smiling, but apologetic, " one of the
boys said that Williston's little girl had ridden over
and said her father wanted to see me as soon as I could
come. So, you see, I thought — "

" Dad always calls me that, so most of the people
around here do, too. It is very silly.""

" I don't think so at all. I only wonder why I have
not known about you before," with a frank smile. " It
must be because I Ve been away so much of the time
lately. Why did n't you wait for me ? " he asked sud
denly. " Ten miles is a sort of a lonesome run — for a
girl."

" I did wait a while," said Mary, honestly, " but you
didn't seem in any hurry. I expect you didn't care
to be bored that long way with the silly chatter of a
4 little girl.'"

" Well," said Langford, ruefully, « I 'm afraid I did
feel a little relieved when I found you had not waited.
I never will again. I do beg your pardon," he called,
laughingly, over his shoulder as he galloped away to
the spring.

[24]

"On the Trail"

When he returned there was no one to receive him
but Williston. Together they entered the house. It
was a small room into which Langford was ushered. It
was also very plain. It was more than that, it was
shabby. An easy-chair or two that had survived the
wreckage of the house of Williston had been shipped
to this " land of promise," together with a few other ar
ticles such as were absolutely indispensable. The table
was a big shipping box, though Langford did not no
tice that, for it was neatly covered with a moth-eaten,
plum-colored felt cloth. A rug, crocheted out of parti
colored rags, a relic of Mary's conservative and thrifty
grandmother, served as a carpet for the living-room. A
peep through the open door into the next and only
other room disclosed glimpses of matting on the floor.
There was a holy place even in this castaway house
on the prairie. As the young man's careless eyes took
in this new significance, the door closed softly. The
" little girl " had shut herself in.

The two men sat down at the table. It was hot.
They were perspiring freely. The flies, swarming
through the screenless doorway, stung disagreeably.

Laconically Williston told his story. He wasted no
words in the telling. In the presence of the man
whose big success made his own pitiful failures incon
gruous, his sensitive scholar's nature had shut up like
a clam.

Langford's jaw was set. His young face was tense
[25]

Langford of the Three Bars

with interest. He had thrown his hat on the floor as
he came in, as is the way with men who have lived much
without women. He had a strong, bronzed face, with
dare-devil eyes, blue they were, too, and he had a cer
tain turn of the head, a mark of distinction which suc
cess always gives to her sons. He had big shoulders,
clad in a blue flannel shirt open at the throat. In his
absorption he had forgotten the " little girl " as com
pletely as if she had, in very truth, been the ten-year-old
of his imagination. How plainly he could see all the
unholy situation, — the handful of desperate men per
fectly protected on the little island. One man sighting
from behind a cottonwood could play havoc with a
whole sheriff's posse on that open stretch of sand-bar.
Nothing but a surprise — and did these insolent men
fear surprise ? They had laughed at the suggestion of
the near presence of an officer of the law. And did
they not do well to laugh ? Surely it was a joke, a
good one, this idea of an officer's being where he was
needed in Kemah County.

" And my brand was on that spotted steer," he inter
rupted. " I know the creature — know him well. He
has a mean eye. Had the gall to dispute the right of
way with me once, not so long ago, either. He was in
the corral at the time, but he's been on the range all
Summer. He may have the evil eye all right, but he 's
mine, bad eye and all ; and what is mine, I will have.
And is that the only original brand you saw?"
[26]

"On the Trail'

" The only one," quietly, " unless the J R on that red
steer when he got up was an original one."

"JR? Who could JR be?"

" I could n't say, but the man was — Jesse Black."

" Jesse Black ! "

The repeated words were fairly spit out.

"Jesse Black! I might have known. Who else
bold enough to loot the Three Bars ? But his day has
come. Not a hair, nor a hide, not a hoof, not tallow
enough to fry a flapjack shall be left on the Three Bars
before he repents his insolence."

" What will you do ? " asked Willis ton.

" What will you do ? " retorted Langford.

" I ? What can I do ? " in the vague, helpless tone
of the dreamer.

" Everything — if you will," briefly.

He snatched up his wide hat.

" Where are you going ? " asked Williston, curiously.

"To see Dick Gordon before this day is an hour
older. Will you come along ? "

" Ye — es," hesitatingly. " Gordon has n't made
much success of things so far, has he ? "

" Because you — and men like you — are under the
thumb of men like Jesse Black," said Langford, curtly.
"Afraid to peach for fear of antagonizing the gang.
Afraid to vote against the tools of the cattle thieves for
fear of antagonizing the gang. Afraid to call your
souls your own for fear of antagonizing the gang.

[27J

Langford of the Three Bars

Your 6 on the fence ' policy did n't work very well this
time, did it? You haven't found your cattle, have
you ? The angel must have forgotten. Thought you
were tainted of Egypt, eh?"

" It is easy for you to talk,'1 said Williston, simply.
" It would be different if your bread and butter and
your little girl's as well depended on a scrawny little
bunch like mine."

" Maybe," said Langford, shrugging his shoulders.
" Does n't seem to have exempted you, though, does it ?
But Black is no respecter of persons, you know. How
ever, the time has come for Dick Gordon to show of
what stuff he is made. It was for this that I worked
for his election, though I confess I little thought at the
time that proofs for him would be furnished from my
own herds. Present conditions humiliate me utterly.
Am I a weakling that they should exist ? Are we all
weaklings ? "

A faint, appreciative smile passed over Williston's
face. No, Langford did not look a weakling, neither
had the professed humiliation lowered his proud head.
Here was a man — a godlike type, with his sunny hair
and his great strength. This was the man who had
thrown not only the whole weight of his personal influ
ence, which was much, but his whole-hearted and ag
gressive service as well, into the long and bitter
campaign for county sovereignty, and had thus turned
the scale in favor of the scarcely hoped-for victory over
[28]

' On the Trail'

the puppet of the cattle rustlers. Williston knew his
great object had been to rid the county of its brigands.
True it was that this big, ruddy, self-confident ranch
man was no weakling.

Langford strode to the door. Then he turned
quicSly.

" Look here, Williston, I shall make you angry, I
suppose, but it has to go in the cattle country, and you
little fellows have n't shown up very white in these
deals ; you know that yourself."

"Well?"

" Are you going to stand pat with us ? "

" If you mean, am I going to tell what I know when
called upon," answered Williston, with a simple dignity
that made Langford color with sudden shame, " I am.
There are many of us * little fellows ' who would have
been glad to stand up against the rustling outrage long
ago had we received any backing. The moral support
of men of your class has not been what you might call
a sort of < on the spot ' support, now, has it ? " relapsing
into a gentle sarcasm. " At least, until you came to the
front," he qualified.

" You will not be the loser, and there 's my hand on
it," said Langford, frankly and earnestly, ignoring the
latter part of the speech. " The Three Bars never for
gets a friend. They may do you before we are through
with them, Williston, but remember, the Three Bars
never forgets."

[29]

Langford of the Three Bars

Braggadocio ? Maybe. But there was strength back
of it, there was determination back of it, and there was
an abiding faith in the power of the Three Bars to make
things happen, and a big wrath destined to sleep not
nor slumber till some things had happened in the cattle
country.

Mary Williston, from her window, as is the way with
a maid, watched the two horsemen for many a mile as
they galloped away. She followed them with her eyes
while they slowly became faint, moving specks in the
level distance and until they were altogether blotted
out, and there was no sign of living thing on the plain
that stretched between. But Paul Langford, as is the
way with a man, forgot that he had seen a beautiful
girl arid had thrilled to her glance. He looked back
not once as he urged his trusty little mare on to see
Dick Gordon.

[30]

CHAPTER III

LOUISE

IT was raining when she left Wind City, but the
rain had soon been distanced. Perhaps the Judge
was right when he said it never rained north or
west of Wind City. But the Judge had not wanted
her to go. Neither had the Judge's wife.

Full twenty minutes, only day before yesterday, the
Judge had delayed his day's outing at the mill where
the Jim River doubles right around on its tracks, in
order to make it perfectly clear to her that it was
absolutely outside of the bounds of her duty, that it
was altogether an affair on the side, that she could not
be expected to go, and that the prosecuting attorney
up there had merely asked her out of courtesy, in def
erence to her position. Of course he would be glad
enough to get her, but let him get some one nearer
home, or do without. It was n't at all necessary for the
court reporter to hold herself in readiness to answer the
call of anything outside her prescribed circuit duties.
To be sure she would earn a trifle, but it was a hard
trip, a hard country, and she had much better postpone
her initial journey into the unknown until the regular
term of court, when he could be with her. He had then

[811

Langford of the Three Bars

thrown his minnow seine over his shoulders, taken his
minnow pail in one hand and his reel case and lunch
box in the other, and walked out to the road wagon
awaiting him at the gate, and so off to his frolic, leaving
her to fight it out for herself.

The Judge's wife had not been so diplomatic, not by
any means. She had dwelt long and earnestly, and no
doubt to a large extent truly, on the uncivilized condi
tion of their neighbors up the line ; the roughness of ac
commodation, the boldness and license of the cowboys,
the daring and insolence of the cattle thieves, the cun
ning and dishonesty of the Indians, and the uncouthness
and viciousness of the half-breeds. She had ended by
declaring eloquently that Louise would die of lonesome-
ness if, by God's good providence, she escaped a worse
fate at the hands of one or all of the many evils she had
enumerated. Yes, it was very evident Aunt Helen had
not wanted her to go. But Aunt Helen's real reason
had been that she held it so dizzily unconventional for
her niece to go out to that wild and unholy land alone.
She did not actually fear for her niece's personal safety,
and Louise more than half suspected the truth.

She had heard all the arguments before. They had
little or no terrors for her now. They were the argu
ments used by the people back in her eastern home,
those dear, dear people, her people — how far away she
was ! — when they had schemed and plotted so patheti
cally to keep her with them, the second one to break

[32]

Louise

away from the slow, safe, and calm traditions of her kin
in the place where generation after generation of her
people had lived and died, and now lay waiting the
Great Judgment in the peaceful country burying-
ground.

She had listened to them dutifully, half- belie vingly,
swallowed hard and followed her uncle, her father's
youngest brother, to the " Land of the Dakotahs," the
fair land of promise, right in the face of her fears and
the loneliness that loomed before her — a thing with
smirks and horns and devil's eyes that would not be
suppressed, but perched itself insolently before her, a
! heart-choking presence, magnified by the mist in her
<eyes, through all the long, long journey to the west
country. It had left her for a while when she had
crossed the Sioux and was on Dakota soil at last. It
was such a glorious land through which she was passing,
the fair region of the corn -belt, and such a prosperous
Qand, and the fields spread so broadly. It had been a
sunny day with clear skies, one of those days when dis
tances are so infinite in South Dakota, the land of wide
spread spaces. It was indeed a fertile valley through
which she was passing. There is none better on earth.

When her train had pulled out of Yankton, she
reflected with a whimsical smile that she had not yet
seen an Indian. To be sure, she had not really ex-.
3ected to see one in feathers and war-paint, but surely
in Indian of some description — did not the traditions
3 [33]

Langford of the Three Bars

of her youth run that Dakota was the land of Indians
and blizzards ? She well remembered — indeed, could
she ever forget ? — when, a tot of seven or eight, she had
run out into the road to gaze after the carry-all that
was taking her well-beloved young uncle away, away,
into that dreadful land where blood ran like rivers and
where people trimmed their clothes with scalps. She
even remembered the feel of the warm, yellow dust up
to her bare ankles and the dreadful lump that she
could n't swallow when her uncle leaned out and waved
his hat vigorously, crying out gayly : —

" Good-bye, little girl, good-bye. If they take my
scalp, 1 11 beg them as a special favor to send it back to
you as a keepsake. Don't forget to take good care of
it. I was always rather proud of my yaller mop.""

He had said more ; he had kept on calling to her
till the big woods swallowed him. But she had under
stood nothing after that last awful charge. It had hap
pened more than fifteen years before, but for many and
many a day thereafter, sensitive mite that she had been,
she would run and hide in the hay-mow whenever she
saw her father or the boys coming from town with the
mail. It was years before the horror of the expected
packet containing the fair hair of her young uncle,
dabbled with blood, fell away from her.

Gradually the awfulness of that dread expectation
passed away. Now, that same dear uncle was a man of
power and position in the new land that had graciously
[31]

Louise

permitted him his scalp. Only last November he had
been reflected to his third term on the bench of his cir
cuit with a big, heart-stirring majority. In the day of
his prosperity he had not forgotten the little, tangle-
haired girl who had cried so inconsolably when he went
away, and the unaccountable horror in whose eyes he had
tried to laugh away on that never-to-be-forgotten day
when he had wrenched his heartstrings from their safe
abiding-place and gone forth in quest of the pot of gold
at the rainbow's end — the first of many generations.
Tradition knew no other since his ancestors had felled
forests and built homes of hewn logs. Now he had sent
for Louise. His court reporter had recently left him
for other fields of labor.

There was commotion among her people on receipt of
the astounding proposition. She lived over again the
dark days of the first flitting. It might well be her uncle
had exaggerated the dangers of life in the new land. It
was great fun to shock his credulous relatives. He had
surely written them some enormous tales during those
fifteen years and more. He used to chuckle heartily to
himself at reading some of the sympathizing replies.
But these tales were held in evidence against him now
that he dared to want Louise. Every letter was brought
out by Louise's dear old grandmother and read to her
over again. Louise did not half believe them, but they
were gospel truth to her grandmother and almost so to
her father and mother as well. She remembered the

[35]

Langford of the Three Bars

old spirit of fun rampant in her favorite uncle, and
while his vivid pictures took all the color from her sen
sitive face, deep down in her heart she recognized them
for what they were worth. The letters were a strange
medley of grasshoppers, blizzards, and Indians. But a
ten-dollar per diem was a great temptation over a five-
dollar per diem, and times were pretty hard on the old
farm. More than all, the inexplicable something that
had led her uncle to throw tradition to the four winds
of heaven was calling her persistently and would not be
denied. So she had written to him for the truth.

" My dear child," he had answered, " I live in a little
city whose civilization would make some of our good
friends in the old home stare. As for grasshoppers, I
believe there was some crazy talk ages ago, but in my
day I do well to corner enough scrawny, scared speci
mens to land a fish in midsummer. Their appall
ing scarcity is a constant sorrow to me. Makes me
plumb mad even yet to think of the hopeless hours I
used to spend blistering my nose on White River, dan
gling for my finny favorite with dough-balls. Dough-
balls — ugh ! ' Send us more grasshoppers, oh, Lord,1
is my daily prayer. As for your last question, I cannot
answer it so well. Not enjoying the personal acquaint
ance of many Indians I cannot tell you much about
them. I believe there are a few over on the Crow Creek
Reservation and perhaps as many on Lower Brule. I
would n't be positive, but I think so. Occasionally I
[36J

Louise

meet one coming from that direction. I have heard —
mind, this is only hearsay — that there are a handful
or so down on the Rosebud Reservation. I would n't
vouch for it. You can hear most anything in this day
and generation. The few I have met seem mild enough.
They appear to be rather afraid of me. Their chief oc
cupations seem to be dog-eating and divorce-getting, so
you can see for yourself how highly modern and civil
ized they are becoming. I am sure you will have no
trouble."

Louise had not altogether believed this rollicking
letter, but it had helped her to her decision.

Wind City and still no Indians ; but there was the
dear hero of her childhood. He was much changed to
be sure ; his big joints had taken on more flesh and he
had gained in dignity of deportment what he had lost
in ease of movement. His once merry eyes had grown
keen with the years of just judging. The lips that had
laughed so much in the old days were set in lines
of sternness. Judge Hammond Dale was a man who
would live up to the tenets of his high calling without
fear or favor, through good and evil report. Yet
through all his gravity of demeanor and the pride of
his integrity, Louise instinctively felt his kindliness and
loved him for it. The loneliness fell away from her and
a measure of content had come in its place, until the
letter had come from the State's attorney up in the
Kemah County : —

[37]

Langford of the Three Bars

MY DEAR Miss DALE : — The eighteenth of August is
the date set for the preliminary hearing of Jesse Black.
Will you come and take the testimony ? I am very anxious
that the testimony be taken by a competent reporter and
shall be grateful to you if you decide to come.

The Judge will tell you about our poor accommodations.
Let me recommend to your consideration some good
friends of mine, the Willistons, father and daughter. They
live three miles northwest of Kemah. The Judge will
remember Williston, George Williston of the Lazy S. They
are cultured people, though their way of living is neces
sarily primitive. I am sure you will like it better there
than at our shabby little hotel, which is a rendez
vous for a pretty rough class of men, especially at court
time.

If you decide to come, Mary Williston will meet you at
Velpen. Please let me know your decision.

Very sincerely,

RICHARD GORDON.

So here she was, going into the Indian country at
last. A big State, South Dakota, and the phases of its
civilization manifold. Having come so far, to refuse to
go on seemed like turning back with her hand already
on the plough, so with a stout heart she had wired
Richard Gordon that she would go. But it was pretty
hard now, to be sure, and pretty dreary, coming into
Velpen knowing that she would see no one she knew
in all the wide, wide world. The thought choked her
and the impish demon, Loneliness, he of the smirk
and horns and devil's eyes, loomed leeringly before her

[38]

Louise

again. Blindly, she picked up her umbrella, suit-case,
and rain-coat.

" Homesick ? " asked the kindly brakeman, with a
consolatory grin as he came to assist her with her
baggage.

She bit her lip in mortification to think she had car
ried her feelings so palpably on her sleeve. But she
nodded honestly.

" Maybe it won't be so bad,1' sympathized the brake
man. His rough heart had gone out to the slim, fair-
haired young creature with the vague trouble in her
eyes.

" Thank you," said Louise, gratefully.

There was a moment's bewilderment on the station
platform. There was no one anywhere who seemed to
be Mary — no one who might be looking for her. It
was evening, too, the lonesome evening to those away
from home, when thoughts stab and memories sap the
courage. Some one pushed her rudely aside. She was
in the way of the trucks.

" Chuck it ! None o' your sass, my lad ! There's my
fist. Heft it if you don't put no stock in its looks. Git
out o' this, I say ! "

The voice was big and convincing. The man was n't
so big, but some way he looked convincing, too. The
truckman stepped aside, but with plucky temerity
answered back.

" Get out yourself ! Think you own the whole
[39]

Langford of the Three Bars

cattle country jest 'cause you herd a few ornery, pink-
eyed, slab-sided critters for your salt ? Well, the rail
road ain't the range, le' me tell you that. Jest you run
your own affairs, will you ? "

" Thanky. Glad to. And as my affairs is at pres
ent a lady, 1 11 thank you to jest trundle this here
railroad offspring to the back o' this here lady — the
back, I say — back ain't front, is it ? Was n't where I
was eddicated. That 's better. And ef you ain't satis
fied, why, I belong to the Three Bars. Ever hear o' the
Three Bars ? Ef I 'm out, jest leave word with the
Boss, will you ? He '11 see I git the word. Yes, sir,
you ol' hoss thief, I belong to the Three Bars."

The encounter was not without interested spectators.
Louise's brakeman was grinning broadly at the discom
fiture of his fellow-employee. Louise herself had for
gotten her predicament in the sudden whirlwind of
which she was the innocent storm-centre.

The cowboy with the temper, having completely
routed the enemy to the immense satisfaction of the
onlookers, though why, no one knew exactly, nor what
the merits of the case, turned abruptly to Louise.

" Are you her ? " he asked, with a perceptible cooling
of his assertive bravado.

" I don't know," said Louise, smiling fearlessly at her
champion, though inwardly quaking at the intuition
that had flashed upon her that this strange, uncouth
man had come to take the place of Mary. " The

[40]

Louise

boldness and license of the cowboys," her aunt had
argued. There could be no doubt of the boldness.
Would the rest of the statement hold good ?

" I think maybe I am, though I am Louise Dale, the
new court reporter. I expected Miss Mary Williston
to meet me.11

" Then you are her," said the man, with renewed
cheerfulness, seizing her suit-case and striding off.
" Come along. We '11 git some supper afore we start.
You Ye dead tired, more 'n likely. It '11 be moonlight
so 't won't matter ef we are late a gittin' home."

" Court reporter ! I '11 be doggoned ! " muttered the
brakeman. " The new girl from down East. A pore
little white lamb among a pack o' wolves and coyotes,
and homesick a'ready. No wonder ! I '11 be takin' you
back to-morrow, I 'm thinkin', young lady."

He did n't know the " little white lamb " who had
come to help Paul Langford and Dick Gordon in their
big fight.

[41]

CHAPTER IV

"MAGGOT"

A hour prior to this little episode, Jim Munson
had sauntered up to the ticket window only to
find that the train from the East was forty min
utes late. He turned away with a little shrug of relief.
It was a foreign role he was playing, — this assumption
of the duties of a knight in dancing attendance on
strange ladies. Secretly, he chafed under it ; outwardly,
he was magnificently indifferent. He had a reputa
tion to sustain, a reputation of having yet to meet that
which would lower his proud boast that he was afraid of
nothing under the sun, neither man nor devil. But he
doubted his ability so to direct the point of view of the
Boss or the Scribe or the rest of the boys of the Three
Bars ranch, who were on a still hunt for his spot of
vulnerability.

The waiting-room was hot, — unbearably so to a
man who practically lived in the open. He strolled out
side and down the tracks. He found himself wishing
the train had been on time. Had it been so, it — the
impending meeting — would now have been a thing of
the forgotten past. He must needs fortify himself all
over again. But sauntering down the track toward the

[42]

"Maggot'

stockyards, he filled his cob pipe, lighted it, and was
comforted. He had a forty-minute reprieve.

The boys had tried most valiantly to persuade him
to " fix up " for this event. He had scorned them in
dignantly. If he was good enough as he was — black
woollen shirt, red neckerchief and all — for men, just so
was he good enough for any female that ever lived. So
he assumed a little swagger as he stepped over the ties,
and tried to make himself believe that he was glad he
had not allowed himself to be corrupted by proffers of
blue shirts and white neckerchiefs.

He was approaching the stockyards. There was
movement there. Sounds of commands, blows, profane
epithets, and worried bawlings changed the placid even
ing calm into noisy strife. It is always a place in
teresting to cowmen. Jim relegated thoughts of the
coming meeting to the background while he leaned on
the fence, and, with idle absorption, watched the load
ing of cattle into a stock car. A switch engine, steam
ing and spluttering, stood ready to make way for
another car so soon as the present one should be laden.
He was not the only spectator. Others were before
him. Two men strolled up to the side opposite as he
settled down to musing interest.

" Gee ! " he swore gently under his breath, " ef that
ain't Bill Brown ! Yep. It is, for a fac\ Wonder
what he 's a shippin1 now for ! " He scrambled lightly
over the high fence of the pen.
[43]

Langford of the Three Bars k

" Hullo, there, Bill Brown ! " he yelled, genially, mak
ing his way as one accustomed through the bunch of
reluctant, excited cattle.

" Hullo yourself, Jim ! What you doin' in town ? "
responded the man addressed, pausing in his labor to wipe
the streaming moisture from his face. He fanned him
self vigorously with his drooping hat while he talked.

" Gal hunting" answered Jim, soberly and despond
ently.

" Hell ! " Brown surveyed him with astonished but
sympathetic approbation. " Hell ! " he repeated. " You
don't mean it, do you, Jim, honest ? Come, now, hon
est ? So you 've come to it, at last, have you ? Well,
well ! What 's comin' over the Three Bars ? What 11
the boys say ? "

He came nearer and lowered his voice to a confiden
tial tone. " Say, Jim, how did it come about ? And
who 's the lady ? Lord, Jim, you of all people ! " He
laughed uproariously.

" Aw, come off ! " growled Jim, in petulant scorn.
" You make me tired ! You 're plumb luney, that 's
what you are. I 'm after the new gal reporter. She 's
due on that low-down, ornery train. Wish — it — was
in Kingdom Come. Yep, I do, for a fac'."

" Oh, well, never mind ! I did n't mean anything,"
laughed Brown, good-naturedly. " But it does beat the
band, Jim, now does n't it, how you people scare at
petticoats. They ain't pizen — honest."
[44]

-Maggot'

Jim looked on idly. Occasionally, he condescended
to head a rebellious steer shute-wards. Out beyond, it
was still and sweet and peaceful, and the late afternoon
had put on that thin veil of coolness which is a God-
given refreshment after the heat of the day. But here
in the pen all was confusion. The raucous cattle-calls
of the cowboys smote the evening air startlingly.

"Here, Bill Brown ! " he exclaimed suddenly, " where
did you run across that critter?" He slapped the
shoulder of a big, raw-boned, long-eared steer as he
spoke. The animal was on the point of being driven
up the shute.

" What you want to know for ? " asked Brown in
surprise.

" Reason 'nough. That critter belongs to us, that 's
why ; and I want to know where you got him, that 's
what I want to know."

" You 're crazy, Jim ! Why, I bought that fellow
from Jesse Black t' other day. I 've got a bill-of-sale
for him. I 'm shippin' a couple of cars to Sioux City
and bought him to send along. That 's on the square."

" I don't doubt it — s' far as you 're concerned,
Bill Brown," said Jim, " but that 's our critter jest
the same, and I '11 jest tote 'im along 'f you 've no
objections."

" Well, I guess not ! " said Brown, laconically.

" Look here, Bill Brown," Jim was getting hot-
headedly angry, " did n't yon know Jesse Black stands
[ 45 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

trial to-morrow for rustlin' that there very critter from
the Three Bars ranch ?"

" No, I did n't," Brown answered, shortly. " Any
case ? "

" I guess yes ! Williston o' the Lazy S saw this very
critter on that island where Jesse Black holds out." He
proceeded to relate minutely the story to which Willis-
ton was going to swear on the morrow. " But," he
concluded, " Jesse 's goin' to fight like hell against bein'
bound over."

" Well, well," said Brown, perplexedly. " But the
brand, Jim, it 's not yours or Jesse's either."

" 'Quainted with any J R ranch in these parts ? "
queried Jim, shrewdly. " I ain't."

" Well, neither am I," confessed Brown, " but that 's
not sayin' there ain't one somewhere. Maybe we can
trace it back."

" Shucks ! " exploded Jim.

u Maybe you 're right, Jim, but I don't propose to
lose the price o' that animal less'n I have to. You
can't blame me for that. I paid good money for it.
If it 's your 'n, why, of course, it 's your 'n. But I want
to be sure first. Sure you 'd know him, Jim ? How
could you be so blamed sure ? Your boss must range
five thousand head."

" Know him ? Know Mag ? I 'd know Mag ef my
eyes were full o' soundin' cataracts. He 's an old and
tried friend o' mine. The meanest critter the Lord

[46]

"Maggot'

ever let live and that 's a fac'. But the Boss calls 'im
his maggot. Seems to actually churish a kind o' 'fection
for the ornery critter, and says the luck o' the Three
Bar would sort o' peak and pine ef he should ever git
rid o' the pesky brute. Maybe he 's right. Leastwise,
the critter 's his, and when a thing "s yours, why, it 's
yours and that 's all there is about it. By cracky, the
Boss is some mad ! You 'd think him and that wall
eyed, cross-grained son-of-a-gun had been kind and lov-
in' mates these many years. Well, I ain't met up with
this ornery critter for some time. Hullo there, Mag !
Look kind o' sneakin', now, don't you, wearin' that out
landish and unbeknownst J R ? "

Bill Brown thoughtfully surveyed the steer whose
ownership was thus so unexpectedly disputed.

" You hold him," insisted Jim. " Ef he ain't ours,
you can send him along with your next shipment, can't
you ? What you wobblin' about ? Ain't afraid the
Boss '11 claim what ain't his, are you, Bill Brown ? "

" Well, I can't he'p myself, I guess," said Brown,
in a tone of voice which told plainly of his laudable
effort to keep his annoyance in subjection to his good
fellowship. " You send Langford down here first thing
in the morning. If he says the critter 's his 'n, that
ends it."

Now that he had convinced his quondam acquaint
ance, the present shipper, to his entire satisfaction, Jim
glanced at his watch with ostentatious ease. His time

[47]

Langford of the Three Bars

had come. If all the minutes of all the time to come
should be as short as those forty had been, how soon he,
Jim Munson, cow-puncher, would have ridden them all
into the past. But his " get away " must be clean and
dignified.

" Likely bunch you have there," he said, casually,
turning away with unassumed reluctance.

" Fair to middling" said Brown with pride.

" Shippin' to Sioux City, you said ?"

" Yep."

" WeU, so long.1'

" So long. Shippin' any these days, Jim ? "

"Nope. Boss never dribbles 'em out. When he
ships he ships. Ain't none gone over the rails since
last Fall."

He stepped off briskly and vaulted the fence with as
lightsome an air as though he were bent on the one
errand his heart would choose, and swung up the track
carelessly humming a tune. But he had a vise-like grip
on his cob pipe. His teeth bit through the frail stem.
It split. He tossed the remains away with a gesture of
nervous contempt. A whistle sounded. He quickened
his pace. If he missed her, — well, the Boss was a good
fellow, took a lot of nonsense from the boys, but there
were things he would not stand for. Jim did not need
to be told that this would be one of them.

The platform was crowded. The yellow sunlight fell
slantingly on the gay groups.
[48]

" Maggot''

"Aw, Munson, you 're bluffin'," jested the mail car
rier. ">You ain't lookin' fer nobody ; you know you
ain't. You ain't got no folks. Don't believe you never
had none. Never heard of 'em."

"Lookin' for my uncle," explained Jim, serenely.
" Rich old codger from the State o' Pennsylvaney
some'ers. Ain't got nobody but me left."

" Aw, come off ! What you givin' us ? "

But Jim only winked and slouched off, prime for
more adventures. He was enjoying himself hugely, —
when he was not thinking of petticoats.

[49]

CHAPTER V

AT THE BON AMI

UNLIKE most of those who ride much, her escort
was a fast walker. Louise had trouble in keep
ing up with him, though she had always con
sidered herself a good pedestrian. But Jim Munson was
laboring under strange embarrassment. He was red-
facedly conscious of the attention he was attracting
striding up the inclined street from the station in the
van of the prettiest and most thoroughbred girl who
had struck Velpen this long time.

Not that he objected to attention under normal con
ditions. Not he ! He courted it. His chief aim in life
seemed to be to throw the limelight of publicity, first,
on the Three Bars ranch, as the one and only in the
category of ranches, and to be connected with it in some
way, however slight, the unquestioned aim and object of
existence of every man, woman, and child in the cattle
country ; secondly, on Paul Langford, the very boss of
bosses, whose master mind was the prop and stay of the
Northwest, if not of all Christendom ; and lastly upon
himself, the modest, but loyal servitor in this Paradise
on earth. But girls were far from normal conditions.
There were no women at the Three Bars. There never

[50]

At the Bon Ami

had been any woman at the Three Bars within the
memory of man. To be sure, Williston's little girl had
sometimes ridden over on an errand, but she did n't
count. This — this was the real thing, and he did n't
know just how to deal with it. He needed time to
enlarge his sight to this broadened horizon.

He glanced with nonchalance over his shoulder.
After all, she was only a girl, and not such a big one
either. She wore longer skirts than Williston's girl,
but he did n't believe she was a day older. He squared
about immediately, and what he had meant to say he
never said, on account of an unaccountable thickening
of his tongue.

Presently, he bolted into a building, which proved to
be the Bon Ami, a restaurant under the direct super
vision of the fat, voluble, and tragic Mrs. Higgins,
where the men from the other side of the river had
right of way and unlimited credit.

" What 11 you have ? " he asked, hospitably, the famil
iar air of the Bon Ami bringing him back to his accus
tomed self-confident swagger.

" Might I have some tea and toast, please ? " said
Louise, sinking into a chair at the nearest table, with
two startling yet amusing thoughts rampant in her
brain. One was, that she wished Aunt Helen could
have seen her swinging along in the wake of this typical
" bold and licentious " man, and calmly and comfortably
sitting down to a cosey little supper for two at a public
[51]

Langford of the Three Bars

eating house ; the other startling thought was to the
effect that the invitation was redolent with suggestive-
ness, and she wondered if she was not expected to say,
" A whiskey for me, please.11

" Guess you kin," answered Jim, wonder in his voice
at the exceeding barrenness of the order. " Mrs. Hig-
gins, hello there, Mrs. Higgins ! I say, there, bring on
some tea and toast for the lady ! "

" Where is the Three Bars ? " asked Louise, her
thoughts straying to the terrors of a fifteen-mile drive
through a strange and uncanny country with a stranger
and yet more uncanny man. She had accepted him
without question. He was part and parcel with the
strangeness of her new position. But the suddenness of
the transition from idle conjecture to startling reality
had raised her proud head and she looked this new
development squarely in the face without outward hint
of inward perturbation.

" Say, where was you raised ? " asked Jim, with tol
erant scorn, between huge mouthfuls of boiled pork and
cabbage, interspersed with baked potatoes, hot rolls, and
soggy dumplings, shovelled in with knife, fork, or spoon.
He occasionally anticipated dessert by making a sudden
sortie into the quarter of an immense custard pie, hast
ening the end by means of noisy draughts of steaming
coffee. Truly, the Three Bars connection had the fat
of the land at the Bon Ami.

" Why, it 's the Three Bars that 's bringin' you here.
[52]

At the Bon Ami

Did n't you know that ? There 's nary a man in the
hull country with backbone enough to keep him off all-
fours 'ceptin' Paul Langford. Um. You just try once
to walk over the Boss, will you ? Lord ! What a
grease spot you 'd make ! "

" Mr. Gordon is n't being walked over, is he ? "
asked Louise, finished with her tea and toast and impa
tient to be off.

" Oh, Gordon ? Pretty decent sort o' chap. Right
idees. Don't know much about handlin' hoss thieves
and sich. Ain't smooth enough. Acted kind o' like a
chicken with its head cut off till the Boss got into the
roundup."

" Oh ! " said Louise, whose conception of the young
counsel for the State did not tally with this delineation.
" Yep, Miss, this here 's the Boss's doin's. Yep.
Lord ! What '11 that gang look like when we are
through with 'em ? Spendin' the rest o' their days
down there in Sioux Falls, meditatin' on the advisa
bility o' walkin' clear o' the toes o' the Three Bars in the
future and cussin' their stupendified stupidity in foolin'
even once with the Three Bars. Yep, sir — yep, ma'am,
I mean, — Jesse Black and his gang have acted just
like pesky, little plum'-fool moskeeters, and we 're goin'
to slap 'em. The cheek of 'em, lightin' on the Three
Bars ! Lord ! "

" Mr. Williston informed, did he not?"
" Williston ? Oh, yes, he informed, but he 'd never
[53]

Langford of the Three Bars

V done it if it had n't V been for the Boss. The ol'
jellyfish would n't V had the nerve to inform without
backin', as sure as a stone wall. The Boss is a doin'
this, I tell you, Miss. But Williston 's a goin' on the
stand to-morrer all right, and so am I."

The two cowboys at the corner table had long since
finished their supper. They now lighted bad-smelling
cigars and left the room. To Louise's great relief,
Munson rose, too. He was back very soon with a neat
little runabout and a high-spirited team of bays.

" Boss's private," explained Jim with pride. " Nothin'
too good for a lady, so the Boss sent this and me to
take keer o' it. And o' you, too, Miss," he added, as
an afterthought.

He held the lines in his brown, muscular hands, lov
ingly, while he stowed away Louise's belongings and
himself snugly in the seat, and then the blood burned
hot and stinging through his bronzed, tough skin, for
suddenly in his big, honest, untrained sensibilities was
born the consciousness that the Boss would have stowed
away the lady first. It was an embarrassing moment.
Louise saved the day by climbing in unconcernedly
after him and tucking the linen robe over her skirt.

" It will be a dusty drive, won't it ? " she asked,
simply.

" Miss, you 're a — dandy," said Jim as simply.

As they drove upon the pontoon bridge, Louise
looked back at the little town on the bluffs, and felt a

[54]

At the Bon Ami

momentary choking in her throat. It was a strange
place, yet it had tendrils reaching homeward. The
trail beyond was obscurely marked and not easy to dis
cern. She turned to her companion and asked quickly :
" Why did n't Mary come ? "

" Great guns ! Did I forgit to tell you ? Williston 's
got the stomach-ache to beat the band and Mary 's got
to physic him up 'gin to-morrer. We 've got to git him
on that stand if it takes the hull Three Bars to hoF him
up and the gal a pourin' physic down him between
times. Yep, Ma'am. He was pizened. You see,
everybody that ate any meat last night was took sick
with gripin' cramps, yep ; but Williston he was worse 'n
all, he bein' a hearty eater. He was a stayin' in town
over night on this preliminary business, and Dick Gor
don he was took, too, but not so bad, bein' what you
might call a light eater. The Boss and me we drove
home after all, though we 'd expected to stay for supper.
The pesky coyotes got fooled that time. Yep, Ma'am,
no doubt about it in the world. Friends o' Jesse's that
we ain't able to lay hands on yit pizened that there
meat. Yep, no doubt about it. Dick was in an awful
sweat about you. Was bound he was a comin' after
you hisself, sick as he was, when we found Mary was off
the count. So then the Boss was a comin' and they fit
and squabbled for an hour who could be best spared,
when I, comin' in, settled it in a jiffy by offerin' my
services, which was gladly accepted. When there 's

[55]

Langford of the Three Bars

pizenin1 goirf on, why, the Boss's place is hum. And
nothin' would do but the Boss's own particular outfit.
He never does things by halves, the Boss don't. So I
hikes home after it and then hikes here."

" I am very grateful to him, I am sure,"" murmured
Louise, smiling.

And Jim, daring to look upon her smiling face, clear
eyes, and soft hair under the jaunty French sailor hat,
found himself wondering why there was no woman at
the Three Bars. With the swift, half-intuitive thought,
the serpent entered Eden.

[56]

CHAPTER VI

"NOTHIN' BUT A HOSS THIEF, ANYWAY"

THE island teemed with early sunflowers and hints
of goldenrod yet to come. The fine, white,
sandy soil deadened the sound of the horses'
hoofs. They seemed to be spinning through space.
Under the cottonwoods it grew dusky and still.

At the toll house a dingy buckboard in a state
of weird dilapidation, with a team of shaggy buck
skin ponies, stood waiting. Jim drew up. Two men
were lounging in front of the shanty, chatting to the
toll-man.

" Hello, Jim ! " called one of them, a tall, slouching
fellow with sandy coloring.

" Now, how the devil did you git so familiar with my
name ? " growled Jim.

" The Three Bars is gettin1 busy these days," spoke up
the second man, with an insolent grin.

" You bet it is," bragged Jim. " When the ofTcers
o1 the law git to sleepin1 with hoss thieves and rustlers,
and take two weeks to arrest a bunch of ""em, when they
know prezactly where they keep theirselves, and have
to have special deputies appointed over 'em five or six
times and then let most o1 the bunch slip through their

[57]

Langford of the Three Bars

fingers, it 's time for some one to git busy. And when
Jesse Black and his gang are so desp'rit they pizen the
chief witnesses — "

A gentle pressure on his arm stopped him. He turned
inquiringly.

" I would n't say any more," whispered Louise. " Let 's
get on."

The hint was sufficient, and with the words, " Right
you are, Miss Reporter, we '11 be gittin' on," Jim paid
his toll and spoke to his team.

" Just wait a bit, will you ? " spoke up the sandy man.

"What for?"

" We Ye not just ready."

" Well, we are," shortly.

" We are n't, and we don't care to be passed, you
know."

He spoke indifferently. In deference to Louise, Jim
waited. The men smoked on carelessly. The toll-man
fidgeted.

" You go to hell ! The Three Bars ain't waitin' on
no damned hoss thieves," said Jim, suddenly.

His nervous team sprang forward. Quick as a flash
the sandy man was in the buckboard. He struck the
bays a stinging blow with his rawhide, and as they
swerved aside he swung into the straight course to the
narrow bridge of boats. In another moment the way
would be blocked. With a burning oath Jim, keeping
to the side of the steep incline till the river mire cut

[58]

"Nothin' but a Hoss Thief, Anyway"

him off, deliberately turned his stanch little team
squarely, and crowded them forward against the shaggy
buckskins. It was team against team. Louise, cling
ing tightly to the seat, lips pressed together to keep
back any sound, felt a wild, inexplicable thrill of con
fidence in the strength of the man beside her.

The bays were pitifully, cruelly lashed by the enraged
owner of the buckskins, but true as steel to the familiar
voice that had guided them so often and so kindly, they
gave not nor faltered. There was a snapping of broken
wood, a wrench, a giving way, and the runabout sprang
over debris of broken wheel and wagon-box to the nar
row confines of the pontoon bridge.

" The Three Bars is gettin' busy ! " gibed Jim over his
shoulder.

" It 's a sorry day for you and yours," cried the other,
in black and ugly wrath.

" We ain't afeared. Your 're nothin' but a hoss thief,
anyway ! " responded Jim, gleefully, as a parting shot.

" Now what do you suppose was their game ? " he
asked of the girl at his side.

" I don't know," answered Louise, thoughtfully. " But
I thought it not wise to say too much to them. You
are a witness, I believe you said."

" Then you think they are part o' the gang ? "

" I consider them at least sympathizers, don't you ?
They seemed down on the Three Bars."

[59]

Langford of the Three Bars

In the Indian country at last. Mile after mile of
level, barren stretches after the hill region had been left
behind. Was there no end to the thirst-inspiring, mo
notonous, lonely reach of cacti ? Prairie dogs, perched
in front of their holes, chattered and scolded at them.
The sun went down and a refreshing coolness crept over
the hard, baked earth. Still, there was nothing but
distance anywhere in all the land, and a feeling of
desolation swept over the girl.

The air of August was delicious now that night was
coming on. There was no wind, but the swift, unflag
ging pace of the Boss's matched team made a stiff breeze
to play in their faces. It was exhilarating. The list-
lessness and discouragement of the day were forgotten.
Throwing her rain-coat over her shoulders, Louise felt
a clumsy but strangely gentle hand helping to draw it
closer around her. Someway the action, simple as it
was, reminded her of the look in that brakeman's eyes,
when he had asked her if she were homesick. Did this
man think she was homesick, too ? She was grateful ;
they were very kind. What a lot of good people there
were in the world ! Now, Jim Munson did not call her
" little white lamb" to himself, the metaphor never en
tered his mind ; but in his big, self-confident heart he
did feel a protecting tenderness for her. She was not
like any woman he had ever seen, and it was a big,
lonesome country for a slip of a girl like her.

The moon came up. Then there were miles of white
[60]

"Nothin' but a Boss Thief, Anyway'

moonlight and lonely plain. But for some time now
there has been a light in front of them. It is as if it
must be a will-o'-the-wisp. They never seem to get
to it. But at last they are there. The door is wide
open. A pleasant odor of bacon and coffee is wafted
out to the tired travellers.

" Come right in," says the cheery voice of Mary.
" How tired you must be, Miss Dale. Tie up, Jim,
and come in and eat something before you go. Well,
you can eat again — two suppers won't hurt you. I
have kept things warm for you. Your train must have
been late. Yes, Dad is better, thank you. He 11 be
all right in the morning."

[61]

CHAPTER VII

THE PRELIMINARY

VERY early in the morning of the day set for the
preliminary hearing of Jesse Black, the young
owner of the Three Bars ranch rode over to Vel-
pen. He identified and claimed the animal held over
from shipment by Jim's persuasion. Brown gave pos
session with a rueful countenance.

" First time Billy Brown ever was taken in," he said,
with great disgust.

Langford met with no interruption to his journey,
either going or coming, although that good cow-
puncher of his, Jim Munson, had warned him to look
sharp to his pistols and mind the bridge. Jim being
of a somewhat belligerent turn of mind, his boss had
not taken the words with much seriousness. As for the
fracas at the pontoon, cowmen are touchy when it comes
to a question of precedence, and it might well be that
the inflammable Jim had brought the sudden storm
down on his head. Paul Langford rode through the
sweet early summer air without let or hindrance and
looking for none. He was jubilant. Now was Willis-
ton's story verified. The county attorney, Richard
Gordon, had considered Williston's story, coupled with

[62]

The Preliminary

his reputation for strict honesty, strong and sufficient
enough to bind Jesse Black over to appear at the next
regular term of the circuit court. Under ordinary cir
cumstances, the State really had an excellent chance of
binding over; but it had to deal with Jesse Black,
and Jesse Black had flourished for many years west of
the river with an unsavory character, but with an almost
awesome reputation for the phenomenal facility with
which he slipped out of the net in which the law — in
the person of its unpopular exponent, Richard Gordon
— was so indefatigably endeavoring to enmesh him.
The State was prepared for a hard fight. But now —
here was the very steer Williston saw on the island
with its Three Bars brand under Black's surveillance.
Williston would identify it as the same. He, Lang-
ford, would swear to his own animal. The defence
would not know he had regained possession and would
not have time to readjust its evidence. It would fall
down and hurt itself for the higher court, and Dick
Gordon would know how to use any inadvertencies
against it — when the time came. No wonder Lang-
ford was light-hearted. In all his arrogant and unham
pered career, he had never before received such an
affront to his pride and his sense of what was due to
one of the biggest outfits that ranged cattle west of the
river. Woe to him who had dared tamper with the
concerns of Paul Langford of the Three Bars.

Williston drove in from the Lazy S in ample time for
[ 63 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

the mid-day dinner at the hotel — the hearing was set
for two o'clock — but his little party contented itself
with a luncheon prepared at home, and packed neatly
and appetizingly in a tin bucket. It was not likely
there would be a repetition of bad meat. It would be
poor policy. Still, one could not be sure, and it was
most important that Williston ate no bad meat that
day.

Gordon met them in the hot, stuffy, little parlor of
the hotel.

" It was good of you to come,11 he said to Louise,
with grave sincerity.

" I did n't want to," confessed Louise, honestly. " I 'm
afraid it is too big and lonesome for me. I am sure I
should have gone back to Velpen last night to catch the
early train had it not been for Mary. She is so —
good."

" The worst is over now that you have conquered
your first impulse to fly," he said.

" I cried, though. I hated myself for it, but I
could n't help it. You see I never was so far from
home before."

He was an absorbed, hard-working lawyer. Years of
contact with the plain, hard realities of rough living in
a new country had dried up, somewhat, his stream of
sentiment. Maybe the source was only blocked with
debris, but certainly the stream was running dry. He
could not help thinking that a girl who cries because

[61]

The Preliminary

she is far from home had much better stay at home
and leave the grave things which are men's work to
men. But he was a gentleman and a kindly one, so
he answered, quietly, " I trust you will like us better
when you know us better," and, after a few more com
monplaces, went his way.

" There 's a man," said Louise, thoughtfully, on the
way to McAllister's office. " I like him, Mary."

" And yet there are men in this county who would
kill him if they dared."

" Mary ! what do you mean ? Are there then so many
cut-throats in this awful country ? "

" I think there are many desperate men among the
rustlers who would not hesitate to kill either Paul
Langford or Richard Gordon since these prosecutions
have begun. There are also many good people who
think Mr. Gordon is just stirring up trouble and put
ting the county to expense when he can have no hope
of conviction. They say that his failures encourage the
rustlers more than an inactive policy would."

" People who argue like that are either tainted with
dishonesty themselves or they are foolish, one of the
two," said Louise, with conviction.

"Mr. Gordon has one stanch supporter, anyway,"
said Mary, smiling. "Maybe I had better tell him.
Precious little encouragement or sympathy he gets,
poor fellow."

" Please do not," replied Louise, quickly. " I wonder
5 [65]

Langford of the Three Bars

if my friend, Mr. Jim Munson, has managed to escape
' battle, murder, and sudden death,1 including death by
poison, and is on hand with his testimony."

As they approached the office, the crowd of men
around the doorway drew aside to let them pass.

" Our chances of worming ourselves through that jam
seem pretty slim to me," whispered Mary, glancing into
the already overcrowded room.

" Let me make a way for you," said Paul Langford,
as he separated himself from the group of men standing
in front, and came up to them.

" I have watered my horse," he said, flashing a merry
smile at Mary as he began shoving his big shoulders
through the press, closely followed by the two young
women.

It was a strange assembly through which they
pressed ; ranchmen and cowboys, most of them, just in
from ranch and range, hot and dusty from long riding,
perspiring freely, redolent of strong tobacco and the
peculiar smell that betokens recent and intimate com
panionship with that part and parcel of the plains, the
horse. The room was indeed hot and close and reeking
with bad odors. There were also present a large dele
gation of cattle dealers and saloon men from Velpen,
and some few Indians from Rosebud Agency, whose
curiosity was insatiable where the courts were concerned,
far from picturesque in their ill-fitting, nondescript
cowboy garments.

[66]

The Preliminary

Yet they were kindly, most of the men gathered
there. Though at first they refused, with stolid resent
ment, to be thus thrust aside by the breezy and aggres
sive owner of the Three Bars, planting their feet the
more firmly on the rough, uneven floor, and serenely
oblivious to any right of way so arrogantly demanded
by the big shoulders, yet, when they perceived for
whom the way was being made, most of them stepped
hastily aside with muttered and abashed apologies.
Here and there, however, though all made way, there
would be no red-faced or stammering apology. Some
times the little party was followed by insolent eyes,
sometimes by malignant ones. Had Mary Williston
spoken truly when she said the will for bloodshed was
not lacking in the county ?

But if there was aught of hatred or enmity in the
heavy air of the improvised court-room for others be
sides the high-minded young counsel for law and order,
Mary Williston seemed serenely unconscious of it. She
held her head proudly. Most of these men she knew.
She had done a man's work among them for two years
and more. In her man's work of riding the ranges she
had had good fellowship with many of them. After to
day much of this must end. Much blame would accrue
to her father for this day's work, among friends as well
as enemies, for the fear of the law-defiers was an omni
present fear with the small owner, stalking abroad by
day and by night. But Mary was glad and there was

[ 67 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

a new dignity about her that became her well, and that
grew out cf this great call to rally to the things that
count.

At the far end of the room they found the justice of
the peace enthroned behind a long table. His Honor,
Mr. James R. McAllister, more commonly known as
Jimmie Mac, was a ranchman on a small scale. He
was ignorant, but of an overweening conceit. He had
been a justice of the peace for several years, and labored
under the mistaken impression that he knew some law ;
but Gordon, on short acquaintance, had dubbed him
"Old Necessity," in despairing irony, after a certain
high light of early territorial days who " knew no law."
Instead of deciding the facts in the cases brought be
fore him from the point of view of an ordinary man of
common sense, McAllister went on the theory that each
case was fraught with legal questions upon which the
result of the case hung ; and he had a way of placing
himself in the most ridiculous lights by arguing long
and arduously with skilled attorneys upon questions of
law. He made the mistake of always trying to give a
reason for his rulings. His rulings, sometimes, were
correct, but one would find it hard to say the same of
his reasons for them.

Louise's little table was drawn closely before the win
dow nearest the court. She owed this thoughtfulness
to Gordon, who, nevertheless, was not in complete sym
pathy with her, because she had cried. The table was

[68]

The Preliminary

on the sunny side, but there was a breeze out of the
west and it played refreshingly over her face, and blew
short strands of her fair hair there also. To Gordon,
wrapped up as he was in graver matters, her sweet fem
ininity began to insist on a place in his mental as well
as his physical vision. She was exquisitely neat and
trim in her white shirt-waist with its low linen collar
and dark blue ribbon tie of the same shade as her walk
ing skirt, and the smart little milliner's bow on her
French sailor hat, though it is to be doubted if Gordon
observed the harmony. She seemed strangely out of
place in this room, so bare of comfort, so stuffy and
stenchy and smoke-filled ; yet, after all, she seemed per
fectly at home here. The man in Gordon awoke, and
he was glad she had not stayed at home or gone away
because she cried.

Yes, Jim was there — and swaggering. It was im
possible for Jim not to swagger a little on any occasion.
The impulse to swagger had been born in him. It had
been carefully nurtured from the date of his first con
nection with the Three Bars. He bestowed an amiable
grin of recognition on the new reporter from the far
side of the room, which was not very far.

The prisoner was brought in. His was a familiar
personality. He was known to most men west of the
river — if not by personal acquaintance, certainly by
hearsay. Many believed him to be the animating mind
of a notorious gang of horse thieves and cattle rustlers
[69]

Langford of the Three Bars

that had been operating west of the river for several
years. Lax laws were their nourishment. They pol
luted the whole. It was a deadly taint to fasten itself
on men's relations. Out of it grew fear, bribery, official
rottenness, perjury. There was an impudent half smile
on his lips. He was a tall, lean, slouching-shouldered
fellow. To-day, his jaws were dark with beard bristles
of several days' standing. He bore himself with an easy,
indifferent manner, and chewed tobacco enjoyingly.

Louise, glancing casually around at the mass of in
terested, sunbrowned faces, suddenly gave a little start
of surprise. Not far in front of Jimmie Mac's table
stood the man of the sandy coloring who had so inso
lently disputed their right of way the day before. His
hard, light eyes, malignant, sinister, significant, were
fixed upon the prisoner as he slouched forward to hear
his arraignment. The man in custody yawned occasion
ally. He was bored. His whole body had a lazy droop.
So far as Louise could make out he gave no sign of
recognition of the man of sandy coloring.

Then came the first great surprise of this affair of
many surprises. Jesse Black waived examination. It
came like a thunderbolt to the prosecution. It was
not Black's way of doing business, and it was generally
believed that, as Munson had so forcibly though inele
gantly expressed it to Billy Brown, " He would fight
like hell " to keep out of the circuit courts. He would
kill this incipient Nemesis in the bud. What, then, had

[70]

The Preliminary

changed him ? The county attorney had rather looked
for a hard-fought defence — a. shifting of the burden
of responsibility for the misbranding to another, who
would, of course, be off somewhere on a business trip, to
be absent an indefinite length of time ; or it might be
he would try to make good a trumped-up story that he
had but lately purchased the animal from some Indian
cattle-owner from up country who claimed to have a
bill-of-sale from Langford. He would not have been
taken aback had Black calmly produced a bill-of-sale.

There were lines about the young attorney's mouth,
crow's feet diverging from his eyes ; his forehead was
creased, too. He was a tall man, slight of build, with
drooping shoulders. One of the noticeable things about
him was his hands. They were beautiful — the long,
slim, white kind that attract attention, not so much,
perhaps, on account of their graceful lines, as because
they are so seldom still. They belong preeminently to
a nervous temperament. Gordon had trained himself
to immobility of expression under strain, but his hands
he had not been able so to discipline. They were
always at something, fingering the papers on his desk,
ruffling his hair, or noisily drumming. Now he folded
them as if to coerce them into quiet. He had hand
some eyes, also, too keen, maybe, for everyday living ;
they would be irresistible if they caressed.

The absoluteness of the surprise flushed his clean
shaven face a little, although his grave immobility of

[71]

Langford of the Three Bars

expression underwent not a flicker. It was a surprise,
but it was a good surprise. Jesse Black was bound over
under good and sufficient bond to appear at the next
regular term of the circuit court in December. That
much accomplished, now he could buckle down for the
big fight. How often had he been shipwrecked in the
shifting sands of the really remarkable decisions of
" Old Necessity " and his kind. This time, as by a
miracle, he had escaped sands and shoals and sunken
rocks, and rode in deep water.

A wave of enlightenment swept over Jim Munson.

" Boss," he whispered, " that gal reporter "s a hum
mer."

" How so ? " whispered Langford, amused. He pro
ceeded to take an interested, if hasty, inventory of her
charms. " What a petite little personage, to be sure !
Almost too colorless, though. Why, Jim, she can't
hold a tallow candle to Williston's girl."

" Who said she could ? " demanded Jim, with a fine
scorn and much relieved to find the Boss so unapprecia-
tive. Eden might not be lost to them after all. Strict
justice made him add : " But she 's a wise one. Spotted
them blamed meddlin' hoss thieves right from the word
go. Yep. That 's a fac\"

" What ' blamed meddlin" hoss thieves," Jim ? You
are on intimate terms with so many gentlemen of that
stripe, — at least your language so leads us to presume,
— that I can't keep up with the procession."

[72]

The Preliminary

" At the bridge yistidy. I told you 'bout it. Saw
'em first at the Bon Amy — but they must a trailed
me to the stockyards. She spotted 'em right away.
She 's a cute 'n. Made me shet my mouth when I was
a blabbin' too much, jest before the fun began. Oh,
she 's a cute 'n ! "

" Who were they, Jim ? "

" One of 'em, I 'm a thinkin', was Jake Sanderson, a
red-headed devil who came up here from hell, I reckon,
or Wyoming, one of the two. Nobody knows his biz.
But he '11 look like a stepped-on potato bug 'gainst I
git through with him. Did n't git on to t' other
feller. Will next time, you bet ! "

" But what makes you think they are mixed up in
this affair?"

" They had their eyes on me to see what I was a doin'
in Velpen. And I was a doin' things, too."

Langford gave a long, low whistle of comprehension.
That would explain the unexpected waiving of exami
nation. Jesse Black knew the steer had been recovered
and saw the futility of fighting against his being bound
over.

"Now, ain't she a hummer?" insisted Jim, admir
ingly, but added slightingly, " Homely, though, as all
git-out. Mouse-hair. Plumb homely."

" On the contrary, I think she is plumb pretty,"
retorted Langford, a laugh in his blue eyes. Jim fairly
gasped with chagrin.

[73]

Langford of the Three Bars

Unconcerned, grinning, Black slouched to the door
and out. Once straighten out that lazy-looking body
and you would have a big man in Jesse Black. Yes,
a big one and a quick one, too, maybe. The crowd
made way for him unconsciously. No one jostled him.
He was a marked man from that day. His lawyer,
Small, leaned back in his chair, radiating waves of self-
satisfaction as though he had but just gained a dis
puted point. It was a manner he affected when not on
the floor in a frenzy of words and muscular action.

Jim Munson contrived to pass close by Jake San
derson.

" So you followed me to find out about Mag, did
you ? Heap o' good it did you ! We knew you knew,"
he bragged, insultingly.

The man's face went white with wrath.

" Damn you ! " he cried. His hand dropped to his
belt.

The two glared at each other like fighting cocks. Men
crowded around, suddenly aware that a quarrel was on.

" The Three Bars 's a gittin' busy ! " jeered Jim.

" Come, Jim, I want you." It was Gordon's quiet
voice. He laid a restraining hand on Munson's over-
zealous arm.

" Dick Gordon, this ain't your put-in," snarled
Sanderson. " Git out the way ! " He shoved him
roughly aside. " Now, snappin' turtle," to Jim, " the
Three Bars 'd better git busy ! "

[74]

The Preliminary

A feint at a blow, a clever little twist of the feet, and
Munson sprawled on the floor, men pressing back to
give him the full force of the fall. They believed in
fair play. But Jim, uncowed, was up with the nimble-
ness of a monkey.

" Hit away ! " he cried, tauntingly. " I know 'nough
to swear out a warrant 'gainst you ! 'T won't be so
lonesome for Jesse now breakin' stones over to Sioux
Falls."

"Jim ! " It was Gordon's quiet, authoritative voice
once more. " I told you I wanted you." He threw
his arm over the belligerent's shoulder.

" Comin', Dick. I did n't mean to blab so much,"
Jim answered, contritely.

They moved away. Sanderson followed them up.

"Dick Gordon," he said with cool deliberateness,
" you 're too damned anxious to stick your nose into
other people's affairs. Learn your lesson, will you ?
My favorite stunt is to teach meddlers how to mind
their own business, — this way."

It was not a fair blow. Gordon doubled up with the
force of the punch in his stomach. In a moment all
was confusion. Men drew their pistols. It looked as
if there was to be a free-for-all fight.

Langford sprang to his friend's aid, using his fists
with plentiful freedom in his haste to get to him.

" Never mind me," whispered Gordon. He was lean
ing heavily on Jim's shoulder. His face was pale,

[75]

Langford of the Three Bars

but he smiled reassuringly. There was something
very sweet about his mouth when he smiled. " Never
mind me," he repeated. " Get the girls out of this —
quick, Paul."

Mary and Louise had sought refuge behind the big
table.

" Quick, the back door ! " cried Langford, leading the
way ; and as the three passed out, he closed the door
behind them, saying, " You are all right now. Run to
the hotel. I must see how Dick is coming on."

"Do you think he is badly hurt?" asked Louise.
" Can't we help ? "

" I think you had best get out of this as quickly as
you can. I don't believe he is knocked out, by any
means, but I want to be on hand for any future events
which may be called. Just fly now, both of you."

The unfair blow in the stomach had given the sym
pathy of most of the bystanders, for the time being
at least, to Gordon. Men forgot, momentarily, their
grudge against him. Understanding from the black
looks that he was not in touch with the crowd, Sander
son laughed — a short snort of contempt — and slipped
out of the door. Unable to resist the impulse, Jim
bounded out after his enemy.

When Paul hastened around to the front of the

building, the crowd was nearly all in the street. The

tension was relaxed. A dazed expression prevailed —

brought to life by the suddenness with which the affair

[76]

The Preliminary

tiad developed to such interesting proportions and the
quickness with which it had flattened out to nothing.
For Sanderson had disappeared, completely, mysteri
ously, and in all the level landscape, there was no
srace of him nor sign.

" See a balloon, Jim ?" asked Langford, slapping him
>n the shoulder with the glimmer of a smile. " Well,
>7our red-headed friend won't be down in a parachute —
/et. Are you all right, Dick, old man ? "

" Yes. Where are the girls ? "

" They are all right. I took them through the back
loor and sent them to the hotel."

" You kin bet on the Boss every time when it comes
:o petticoats,"11 said Jim, disconsolately.

" Why, Jim, what 's up ? " asked Langford, in amused
lurprise.

But Jim only turned and walked away with his head
n the air. The serpent was leering at him.

[77]

CHAPTER VIII

THE COUNTY ATTORNEY

""W" TOO am going to Wind City," said a pleasant

jj voice at her side. " You will let me help you
with your things, will you not ? "

The slender girl standing before the ticket window,
stuffing change into her coin purse, turned quickly.

" Why, Mr. Gordon,1' she said, holding out a small
hand with frank pleasure. " How very nice ! Thank
you, will you take my rain-coat ? It has been such a
bother. I would bring it right in the face of Uncle
Hammond's objections. He said it never rained out
this way. But I surely have suffered a plenty for my
waywardness. Don't you think so ? "

" It behooves a tenderfoot like you to sit and dili
gently learn of such experienced and toughened old-
timers as we are, rather than flaunt your untried ideas
in our faces," responded Gordon, with a smile that
transformed the keen gray eyes of this man of much
labor, much lofty ambition, and much sorrow, so that
they seemed for the moment strangely young, laughing,
untroubled ; as clear of taint of evil knowledge as the
source of a stream leaping joyously into the sunlight

[78]

The County Attorney

from some mountain solitude. It was a revelation to
Louise.

"I will try to be a good and diligent seeker after
knowledge of this strange land of yours," she answered,
with a little laugh half of embarrassment, half of enjoy
ment of this play of nonsense, and leading the way to
her suit-case and Mary outside. " When I make mis
takes, will you tell me about them ? Down East, you
know, our feet travel in the ancient, prescribed circles
of our forefathers, and they are apt to go somewhat
uncertainly if thrust into new paths.""

And this laughing, clever girl had cried with home
sickness ! Well, no wonder. The worst of it was, she
could never hope to be acclimated. She was not —
their kind. Sooner or later she must go back to God's
country.

To her surprise, Gordon, though he laughed softly
for a moment, answered rather gravely.

" If my somewhat niggardly fate should grant me
that good fortune, thab I may do something for you, I
ask that you be not afraid to trust to my help. It
would not be half-hearted — I assure you."

She looked up at him gratefully. His shoulders,
slightly stooped, betokening the grind at college and
the burden-bearing in later years, instead of suggesting
any inherent weakness in the man, rather inspired her
with an intuitive faith in their quiet, unswerving, utter
i trustworthiness.

[79]

Langford of the Three Bars

"Thank you," she said, simply. "I am so glad they
did not hurt you much that day in the court-room.
We worried — Mary and I."

"Thank you. There was not the least danger.
They were merely venting their spite on me. They
would not have dared more.1'

There is always a crowd at the Velpen station for
outgoing or incoming trains. This meeting of trains is
one of the dissipations of its people — and an eminently
respectable dissipation. It was early — the eastbound
leaves at something past eight — yet there were many
people on the platform who did not seem to be going
anywhere. They were after such stray worms as always
fall to the lot of the proverbial early bird. The par
ticular worm in question that morning was the new girl
court reporter, homeward bound. Many were making
the excuse of mailing belated letters. Mary was stand
ing guard over the suit-case and umbrella near the last
car. She seemed strangely alone and aloof standing
there, the gravity of the silent prairie a palpable atmos
phere about her.

" There 's my brakeman," said Louise, when she and
Gordon had found a seat near the rear. Mary had
gone and a brakeman had swung onto the last car as
it glided past the platform, and came down the aisle
with a grin of recognition for his " little white lamb.'1

"How nice it all seems, just as if I had been gone
months instead of days and was coming home again. It

[80]

The County Attorney

would be funny if I should be homesick for the range
when I get to Wind City, would n't it ? "

" Let us pray assiduously that it may be so," an
swered Gordon, with one of his rare smiles. He busied
himself a moment in stowing away her belongings to
the best advantage. " It gets in one's blood, — how or
when, one never knows."

They rode in silence for a while.

" Tell me about your big fight," said Louise, pres
ently. The road-bed was fairly good, and they were
spinning along on a down grade. He must needs bend
closer to hear her.

She was good to look at, fair and sweet, and it had
been weary years since women had come close to Gor
don's life. In the old college days, before this hard,
disappointing, unequal fight against the dominant
forces of greed, against tolerance of might overcoming
right, had begun to sap his vitality, he had gone too
deeply into his studies to have much time left for the
gayeties and gallantries of the social side in university
life. He had not been popular with women. They
did not know him. Yet, though dubbed a " dig " by
bis fellow-collegians, the men liked him. They liked
him for his trustworthiness, admired him for his rugged
honesty, desired his friendship for the inspiration of his
high ideals.

The memory of these friendships with men had been
an ever-present source of strength and comfort to him
« [ 81 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

in these later years of his busy life. Yet of late he
had felt himself growing calloused and tired. The
enthusiasm of his younger manhood was falling from
him somewhat, and he had been but six years out of
the university. But it was all so hopeless, so bitterly
futile, this moral fight of one man to stay the mind-
bewildering and heart-sickening ceaseless round of
wheels of open crime and official chicanery. Was the
river bridged ? And what of the straw ? His name
was a joke in the cattle country, a joke to horse thief,
a joke to sheriff. Its synonyme was impotency among
the law-abiders who were yet political cowards. What
was the use ? What could a man do — one man, when
a fair jury was a dream, when ballots were so folded
that the clerk, drawing, might know which to select in
order to obtain a jury that would stand pat with the
cattle rustlers ? Much brain and brawn had been
thrown away in the unequal struggle. Let it pass.
Was there any further use?

Then a woman came to him in his dark hour. His
was a stubborn and fighting blood, a blood that would
never cry " enough " till it ceased to flow. Yet what a
comforting thing it was that this woman, Louise, should
be beside him, this woman who knew and who under
stood. For when she lifted those tender gray eyes and
asked him of his big fight, he knew she understood.
There was no need of explanation, of apology, for
all the failure of all these years. A warm gratitude

[83]

The County Attorney

swept across his heart. And she was so neat and sweet
and fair, unspoiled by constant contact with, and inti
mate knowledge of, the life of the under world ; rather
was she touched to a wonderful sympathy of under
standing. It was good to know such a woman ; it would
be better to be a friend of such a woman ; it would be
best of all to love such a woman — if one dared.

« What shall I talk about, Miss Dale ? It is all
very prosaic and uninteresting, 1 1m afraid ; shockingly
primitive, glaringly new.'1

" I breakfasted with a stanch friend of yours this
morning," answered Louise, somewhat irrelevantly.
She had a feeling — a woman's feeling — that this
earnest, hard-working, reserved man would never
blurt out things about himself with the bland self-
centredness of most men. She must, use all her
woman's wit to draw him out. She did not know yet
that he was starved for sympathy — r for understand
ing. She could not know yet that two affinities had
drifted through space — near together. A feathery
zephyr, blowing where it listed, might widen the space
between to an infinity of distance so that they might
never know how nearly they had once met ; or it
might, as its whim dictated, blow them together so that
for weal or for woe they would know each the other.

" Mrs. Higgins, at the Bon Ami," she continued,
smiling. " I was so hungry when we got to Velpen,
though I had eaten a tremendous breakfast at the
[83]

Langford of the Three Bars

Lazy S. But five o'clock is an unholy hour at which
to eat one's breakfast, is n't it, and I just could n't help
getting hungry all over again. So I persuaded Mary
to stop for another cup of coffee. It is ridiculous the
way I eat in your country."

" It is a good country," he said, soberly.

" It must be — if you can say so."

" Because I have failed, shall I cry out that law
cannot be enforced in Kemah County ? Sometimes —
may it be soon — there will come a man big enough to
make the law triumphant. He will not be I."

He was still smarting from his many set-backs. He
had worked hard and had accomplished nothing. At
the last term of court, though many cases were tried,
he had not secured one conviction.

" We shall see," said Louise, softly. Her look,
straight into his eyes, was a glint of sunlight in dark
places. Then she laughed.

" Mrs. Higgins said to me : ' Jimmie Mac hain't got
the sense he was born with. His little, dried-up brain 'd
rattle 'round in a mustard seed and he's gettin' shet o'
that little so fast it makes my head swim.' She was
telling about times when he had n't acted just fair to
you. I am glad — from all I hear — that this was
taken out of his hands."

" I can count my friends, the real ones, on one hand,
I 'm afraid," said Gordon, with a good-humored smile ;
" and Mrs. Higgins surely is the thumb."
[84]

The County Attorney

" I am glad you smiled," said Louise. " That would
have sounded so bitter if you had not."

" I could n't help smiling. You — you have such a
way, Miss Dale."

It was blunt but it rang true.

"It is true, though, about my friends. If I could
convict — Jesse Black, for instance, — a million friends
would call me blessed. But I can't do it alone. They
will not do it ; they will not help me do it ; they
despise me because I can't do it, and swear at me
because I try to do it — and there you have the whole
situation in a nutshell, Miss Dale."

The sun struck across her face. He reached over
and lowered the blind.

" Thank you. But it is ' Vantage in ' now, is it not ?
You will get justice before Uncle Hammond."

Unconsciously his shoulders straightened.

"Yes, Miss Dale, it is 'Vantage in.' One of two
things will come to pass. I shall send Jesse Black over
or — " he paused. His eyes, unseeing, were fixed on
the gliding landscape as it appeared in rectangular
spots through the window in front of them.

" Yes. Or — " prompted Louise, softly.

" Never mind. It is of no consequence," he said,
abruptly. " No fear of Judge Dale. Juries are my
Waterloo."

" Is it, then, such a nest of cowards ? " cried Louise,
intense scorn in her clear voice.
[85]

Langford of the Three Bars

" Yes," deliberately. " Men are afraid of retaliation
— those who are not actually blood-guilty, as you
might say. And who can say who is and who is not ?
But he will be sent over this time. Paul Langford is
on his trail. Give me two men like Langford and that
anachronism — an honest man west of the river —
Williston, and you can have the rest, sheriff and all.1"

" Mr. Williston — he has been unfortunate, has he
not? He is such a gentleman, and a scholar, surely.""

" Surely. He is one of the finest fellows I know.
A man of the most sensitive honor. If such a thing
can be, I should say he is too honest, for his own
good. A man can be, you know. There is nothing in
the world that cannot be overdone.11

She looked at him earnestly. His eyes did not shift.
She was satisfied.

"Your work belies your words,11 she said, quietly.

Dust and cinders drifted in between the slats of
the closed blind. Putting her handkerchief to her lips,
Louise looked at the dark streaks on it with reproach.

"Your South Dakota dirt is so — black,11 she said,
whimsically.

" Better black than yellow,11 he retorted. " It looks
cleaner, now, does n't it ? n

" Maybe you think my home a fit dwelling place for
John Chinaman,11 pouted Louise.

" Yes — if that will persuade you that South Dakota
is infinitely better. Are you open to conviction ? "

[86]

The County Attorney

66 Never ! I should die if I had to stay here."

" You will be going back — soon ? "

" Some day, sure ! Soon ? Maybe. Oh, I wish I
could. That part of me which is like Uncle Hammond
says, ' Stay.' But that other part of me which is like
the rest of us, says, ' What 's the use ? Go back to
your kind. You 're happier there. Why should you
want to be different ? What does it all amount to ? '
I am afraid I shall be weak enough and foolish enough
to go back and — stay."

There was a stir in the forward part of the car. A
man, hitherto sitting quietly by the side of an alert
wiry little fellow who sat next the aisle, had attempted
to bolt the car by springing over the empty seat in
front of him and making a dash for the door. It was
daring, but in vain. His companion, as agile as he,
had seized him and forced him again into his place
before the rest of the passengers fully understood that
the attempt had really been made.

" Is he crazy ? Are they taking him to Yankton ? "
asked Louise, the pretty color all gone from her face.
" Did he think to jump off the train ? "

"That's John Yellow Wolf, a young half-breed.
He 's wanted up in the Hills for cattle-rustling —
United States Court case. That 's Johnson with him,
Deputy United States Marshal."

" Poor fellow," said Louise, pityingly.

" Don't waste your sympathy on such as he. They
[87]

Langford of the Three Bars

are degenerates — many of these half-breeds. They
will swear to anything. They inherit all the evils of
the two races. Good never mixes. Yellow Wolf would
swear himself into everlasting torment for a pint of
whiskey. You see my cause of complaint ? But never
think, Miss Dale, that these poor chaps of half-breeds,
who are hardly responsible, are the only ones who are
willing to swear to damnable lies."'' There was a tang of
bitterness in his voice. "Perjury, Miss Dale, perjury
through fear of bribery or self-interest, God knows
what, it is there I must break, I suppose, until the
day of judgment, unless — I run away."

Louise, through all the working of his smart and
sting, felt the quiet reserve strength of this man be
side her, and, with a quick rush of longing to do
her part, her woman's part of comforting and healing,
she put her hand, small, ungloved, on his rough coat
sleeve.

"Is that what you meant a while ago? But you
don't mean it, do you? It is bitter and you do not
mean it. Tell me that you do not mean it, Mr. Gordon,
please,11 she said, impulsively.

Smothering a wild impulse to keep the hand where
it had lain such a brief, palpitating while, Gordon
remained silent. God only knows what human longing
he crushed down, what intense discouragement, what
sick desire to lay down his thankless task and flee to
the uttermost parts of the world to be away from the

[88]

The County Attorney

crying need he yet could not still. Then he answered
simply, " I did not mean it, Miss Dale."

And then there did not seem to be anything to say
between them for a long while. The half-breed had
settled down with stolid indifference. People had re
sumed their newspapers and magazines and day dreams
after the fleeting excitement. It was very warm.
Louise tried to create a little breeze by flicking her
somewhat begrimed handkerchief in front of her face.
Gordon took a newspaper from his pocket, folded it and
fanned her gently. He was not used to the little graces
of life, perhaps, but he did this well. An honest man
and a kindly never goes far wrong in any direction.

" You must not think, Miss Dale," he said, seriously,
" that it is all bad up here. I am only selfish. I have
been harping on my own little corner of wickedness all
the while. It is a good land. It will be better before
long/'

" When ?" asked Louise.

" When we convict Jesse Black and when our Indian
neighbors get over their mania for divorce," he answered,
laughing softly.

Louise laughed merrily and so the journey ended as
it had begun, with a laugh and a jest.

In the Judge's runabout, Louise held out her hand.

" I 'm almost homesick," she cried, smiling.

[89]

CHAPTER IX

THE ATTACK ON THE LAZY S

IT was late. The August night was cool and sweet
after a weary day of intense heat. The door was
thrown wide open. It was good to feel the night
air creeping into the stifling room. There was no light
within ; and without, nothing but the brilliant stars in
the quiet, brooding sky. Williston was sitting just
within the doorway. Mary, her hands clasped idly
around her knees, sat on the doorstep, thoughtfully
staring out into the still darkness. There was a stir.

" Bedtime, little girl," said Williston.

" Just a minute more, daddy. Must we have a light ?
Think how the mosquitoes will swarm. Let 's go to bed
in the dark."

" We will shut the door and next Summer, little girl,
you shall have your screens. I promise you that, always
providing, of course, Jesse Black leaves us alone."

Had it not been so dark, Mary could have seen the
wistful smile on the thin, scholarly face. But though
she could not see it, she knew it was there. There had
been fairer hopes and more generous promises in the
past few years. They had all gone the dreary way of
impotent striving, of bitter disappointment. There

[ 90 ]

The Attack on the Lazy S

was little need of light for Mary to read her father's
thoughts.

"Sure, daddy," she answered, cheerily. "And I'll
see that you don't forget. As for Jesse Black, he
would n't dare with the Three Bars on his trail. Well,
if you must have a light, you must," rising and stretch
ing her firm-fleshed young arms far over her head.
"You can't forget you were born in civilization, can
you, daddy ? I am sure I could be your man in the
dark, if you 'd let me, and I always turn your night
shirt right side out before hanging it on your bedpost,
and your sheet and spread are turned down, and water
right at hand. You funny, funny little father, who
can't go to bed in the dark." She was rummaging
around a shelf in search of matches, "Now, I have
forgotten long since that I was n't born on the plains.
It would n't hurt me if I had misplaced my nightdress.
I 've done it," with a gay little laugh. He must be
cheered up at all costs, this buffeted and disappointed
|ibut fine-minded, high-strung, and lovable father of hers.
"And I haven't taken my hair down nights since — oh,
since months ago, till — oh, well — so you see it's
easy enough for me to go to bed in the dark."

Her hand touched the match box at last. A light

red out.

"Shut the door quick, dad," she said, lighting the
lamp on the table. " The skeeters '11 eat us alive."

Williston stepped to the door. Just a moment he
[91]

Langford of the Three Bars

stood there in the doorway, the light streaming out
into the night, tall, thoughtful, no weakling in spite of
many failures and many mistakes. A fair mark he
made, outlined against the brightly lighted room. It
was quiet. Not even a coyote shrilled. And while he
stood there looking up at the calm stars, a sudden
sharp report rang out and the sacred peace of God,
written in the serenity of still summer nights, was
desecrated. Hissing and ominous, the bullet sang past
Williston's head, perilously near, and lodged in the
opposite wall. At that moment, the light was blown
out. A great presence of mind had come to Mary in
the time of imminent danger.

" Good, my dear ! " cried Williston, in low tones.
Quick as a flash, the door was slammed shut and bolted
just as a second shot fell foul of it.

" Oh, my father ! " cried Mary, groping her way to
his side.

" Hush, my dear ! They missed me clean. Don't
lose your nerve, Mary. They wont find it so easy
after all."

There had been no third shot. A profound silence
followed the second report. There was no sound of
horse or man. Whence, then, the shots? One man,
maybe, creeping up like some foul beast of prey to
strike in the dark. Was he still lurking near, abiding
another opportunity?

It took but a moment for Williston to have the rifles
[92]

The Attack on the Lazy S

cocked and ready. Mary took her own from him with
a hand that trembled ever so slightly.

" What will you do, father ? " she asked, holding her
rifle lovingly and thanking God in a swift, unformed
thought for every rattlesnake or other noxious creature
whose life she had put out while doing her man's work
of riding the range, — work which had given her not
only a man's courage but a man's skill as well.

" Take the back window, girl," he answered, briefly.
" I '11 take the front. Stand to the side. Get used to
the starlight and shoot every shadow you see, especially
if it moves. Keep track of your shots, don't waste an
effort and don't let anything creep up on you. They
must n't get near enough to fire the house."

His voice was sharp and incisive. The drifting habit
had fallen from him, and he was his own master again.

Several heavy minutes dragged away without move
ment, without sound from without. The ticking of the
clock pressed on strained ears like ghastly bell-tolling.
Their eyes became accustomed to the darkness and, by
the dim starlight, they were able to distinguish the
outlines of the cattle-sheds, still, empty, black. Noth
ing moved out there.

"I think they're frightened off," said Mary at last,
breathing more freely. " They were probably just one,
or they 'd not have left. He knew he missed you, or
he would not have fired again. Do you think it was
Jesse?"

[93]

Langford of the Three Bars

" Jesse would not have missed," he said, grimly.

At that moment, a new sound broke the stillness,
the whinny of a horse. Reinforcement had approached
within the shadow of the cattle-sheds. Something
moved out there at last.

44 Daddy ! " called Mary, in a choked whisper. "Come
here — they are down at the sheds.1'

Williston stepped to the back window quickly.

" Change places/' he said, briefly.

44 Daddy ! "

44 Yes?"

44 Keep up your nerve," she breathed between great
heart-pumps.

44 Surely ! Do you the same, little comrade, and shoot
to kill."

There was a savage note in his last words. For
himself, it did not matter so much, but Mary — he
pinned no false faith in any thought of possible chival
rous intent on the part of the raiders to exempt his
daughter from the grim fate that awaited him. He
had to deal with a desperate man ; there would be no
clemency in this desperate man's retaliation.

To his quickened hearing came the sound of stealthy
creeping. Something moved directly in front of him,
but some distance away. 44 Shoot every shadow you
see, especially if it moves," were the fighting orders, and
his was the third shot of that night.

44 Hell 1 I Ve got it in the leg ! " cried a rough voice.
[94]

The Attack on the Lazy S

full of intense anger and pain, and there were sounds of
a precipitate retreat.

Out under protection of the long row of low-built
sheds, other orders were being tersely given and silently
received.

"Now, men, I'll shoot the first man of you who
blubbers when he "s hit. D1 ye hear ? There have
been breaks enough in this affair already. I don't
intend for that petticoat man and his pulin1 petticoat
kid in there to get any satisfaction out o1 this at all.
Hear me ? "

There was no response. None was needed.

Some shots found harmless lodgment in the outer
walls of the shanty. They were the result of an un
availing attempt to pick the window whence Williston's
shot had come. Mary could not keep back a little
womanish gasp of nervous dread.

" Grip your nerve, Mary," said her father. " That 's
nothing — shooting from down there. Just lie low and
they can do nothing. Only watch, child, watch ! They
must not creep up on us. Oh, for a moon ! "

She did grip her nerve, and her hand ceased its
trembling. In the darkness, her eyes were big and
solemn. Sometime, to-morrow, the reaction would
come, but to-night —

" Yes, father, keep up your own nerve,*11 she said, in
a brave little voice that made the man catch his breath
in a sob.

[95]

Langford of the Three Bars

Again the heavy minutes dragged away. At each
of the two windows crouched a tense figure, brain alert,
eyes in iron control. It was a frightful strain, this
waiting game. Could one be sure nothing had escaped
one's vigilance ? Starlight was deceptive, and one's eyes
must needs shift to keep the mastery over their little
horizon. It might well be that some one of those
ghostly and hidden sentinels patrolling the lonely
homestead had wormed himself past staring eyeballs,
crawling, crawling, crawling ; it might well be that at
any moment a sudden light flaring up from some
corner would tell the tale of the end.

Now and then could be heard the soft thud of a hoof
as some one rode to execute an order. Occasionally,
something moved out by the sheds. Such movement,
if discernible from the house, was sure to be followed
on the instant by a quick sharp remonstrance from
Williston's rifle. How long could it last ? Would his
nerve wear away with the night ? Could he keep his
will dominant ? If so, he must drag his mind resolutely
away from that nerve-racking, still, and unseen creeping,
creeping, creeping, nearer and nearer. How the still
ness weighed upon him, and still his mind dwelt upon
that sinuous, flat-bellied creeping, crawling, worming !
God, it was awful ! He fought it desperately. He
knew he was lost if he could not stop thinking about
it. The sweat came out in big beads on his forehead,
on his body ; he prickled with the heat of the effort.

[96]

The Attack on the Lazy S

Then it left him — the awful horror — left him curi
ously cold, but steady of nerve and with a will of iron
and eyes, cat's eyes, for their seeing in the dark. Now
that he was calm once more, he let himself weigh the
chances of succor. They were pitifully remote. The
Lazy S was situated in a lonely stretch of prairie land
far from any direct trail. True, it lay between Kemah,
the county seat, and the Three Bars ranch, but it was
a good half mile from the straight route. Even so, it
was a late hour for any one to be passing by. It was
not a travelled trail except for the boys of the Three
Bars, and they were known to be great home-stayers
and little given to spreeing. As for the rustlers, if
rustlers they were, they had no fear of interruption by
the officers of the law, who held their places by virtue
of the insolent and arbitrary will of Jesse Black and
his brotherhood, and were now carousing in Kemah by
virtue of the hush-money put up by this same Secret
Tribunal.

Yet now that Williston's head was clear, he realized,
with strengthening confidence in the impregnability of
their position, that two trusty rifles behind barred
doors are not so bad a defence after all, especially when
one took into consideration that, with the exception of
the sheds overlooking which he had chosen his position
as the point of greatest menace, and a small clump of
half-grown cottonwoods by the spring which Mary
commanded from her window, there were no hiding
7 [ 97 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

places to be utilized for this Indian mode of warfare.
He could not know how many desperadoes there were,
but he reasoned well when he confided in his belief that
they would not readily trust themselves to the too
dangerous odds of the open space between. An open
attack was not probable. Vigilance, then, a never-
lapsing vigilance that they be not surprised, was the
price of their salvation. What human power could do,
he would do, and trust Mary to do the same. She was
a good girl and true. She would do well. She had
not yet shot. Surely, they would make use of that
good vantage ground of the cottonwood clump. Prob
ably they were even now making a detour to reach it.

" Watch, child, watch ! " he said again, without in the
least shifting his tense position.

" Surely ! " responded Mary, quite steadily.

Now was her time come. Dark, sinister figures flitted
from tree to tree. At first, she could not be sure, it
was so heartlessly dark, but there was movement — it
was different from that terrible blank quiet which she
had hitherto been gazing upon till her eyes burned and
pricked as with needle points, and visionary things
swam before them. She winked rapidly to dispel the
unreal and floating things, opened wide her longlashed
lids, fixed them, and — fired. Then Williston knew
that his "little girl," his one ewe lamb, all that was
left to him of a full and gracious past, must go through
what he had gone through, all that nameless horror

[98]

The Attack on the Lazy S

and expectant dread, and his heart cried out at the
unholy injustice of it all. He dared not go to her,
dared not desert his post for an instant. If one got
within the shadow of the walls, all was lost.

Mary's challenge was met with a rather hot return
fire. It was probably given to inspire the besieged
with a due respect for the attackers1 numbers. Bullets
pattered around the outside walls like hailstones, one
even whizzed through the window perilously near the
girl's intent young face.

Silence came back to the night. There was no more
movement. Yet down there at the spring, something,
maybe one of those dark, gaunt cotton woods, held
death — death for her and death for her father. A
stream of icy coldness struck across her heart. She
found herself calculating in deliberation which tree it
was that held this thing — death. The biggest one,
shadowing the spring, helping to keep the pool sweet
and cool where Paul Langford had galloped his horse
that day when — ah ! if Paul Langford would only
come now !

A wild, girlish hope flashed up in her heart. Lang-
ford would come — had he not sworn it to her father ?
Had he not given his hand as a pledge ? It means
something to shake hands in the cattle country. He
was big and brave and true. When he came, these
awful, creeping terrors would disperse — grim shadows
that must steal away when morning comes, When he

[99]

Langford of the Three Bars

came, she could put her rifle in his big, confident hands,
lie down on the floor and — cry. She wanted to cry —
oh, how she did want to cry ! If Paul Langford would
only come, she could cry. Cold reason came back to
her aid and dissipated the weak and womanish longing
to give way to tears. There was a pathetic droop to
her mouth, a long, quivering, sobbing sigh, and she
buried her woman's weakness right deeply and stamped
upon it. How utterly wild and foolish her brief hope
had been ! Langford and all his men were sound in
sleep long ago. How could he know? Were the
ruffians out there men to tell ? Ah, no ! There was
no one to know. It would all happen in the dark,
— in awful loneliness, and there would be no one to
know until it was all over — to-morrow, maybe, or next
week, who could tell ? They were off the main trail,
few people ever sought them out. There would be no
one to know.

As her strained sight stared out into the darkness, it
was borne to her intuitively, it may be, that something
was creeping up on her. She could see nothing and
yet knew it to be true. Every fibre of her being
tingled with the certainty of it. It was coming closer
and closer. She felt it like an actual presence. Her
eyes shifted here, there — swept her half-circle search-
ingly — stared and stared. Still nothing moved. And
yet the nearness of some unseen thing grew more and
more palpable. If she could not see it soon, she must
[100]

The Attack on the Lazy S

scream aloud. She breathed mettle: ^quickened' gasps.
Soon, very soon now, she would" scream. Ah, ! A
shadow down by the bigge&t *£o( ton *ybbd' !; : .Tt-^icyldly
sought a nearer and a smaller trunk. Another slink
ing shadow glided behind the vacated position. It was
a ghastly presentation of "Pussy- wan ts-a-corner" played
in nightmare. But at last it was something tangible,
— something to do away with that frightful sensation
of that crawling, creeping, twisting, worming, insinu
ating — nearer arid nearer, so near now that it beat
upon her — unseen presence. She pressed her finger
to the trigger to shoot at the tangible shadows and
dispel that enveloping, choking, blanket horror, when
God knows what stayed the muscular action of her
fingers. Call it instinct, what you will, her hand
was stayed even before her physical eye was caught
and held by a blot darker still than the night, over
to her right, farthest from the spring. It lay per
fectly still. It came to her, the wily plan, with
startling clearness. The blot was waiting for her
to fire futilely at grinning shadows among the trees
and, under cover of her engrossed attention, insinuate
its treacherous body the farther forward. Then the
play would go merrily on till — the end. She turned
the barrel of her rifle slowly and deliberately away
from the moving shapes among the cottonwood clump,
sighted truly the motionless blur to her right, and
fired, once, twice, three times.
[101]

Langford of the Three Bars

The completeness xrf $ie surprise seemed to inspire
the attackers with a hellish fury. They returned the fire
rapidly and; at wilL remaining under cover the while.
Shrinking low at her window, her eyes glued on the still
black mass out yonder, Mary wondered if it were dead.
She prayed passionately that it might be, and yet — it
is a dreadful thing to kill. Once more the wild firing
ceased. Mary responded once or twice just to keep the
deadly chill from returning — if that were possible.

Under cover of the desperadoes1 fire, at obtuse angles
with the first attempt, a second blot began its tortuous
twisting. It accomplished a space, stopped ; pulled
itself its length, stopped, waited, watchful eyes on the
window whence came Mary's scattered firing still into
the clump of trees. They had drawn her close regard
at last. Would it hold out ? Forward again, crawling
flat on the ground, ever advancing, slowly, very slowly,
but also very surely, creeping, creeping, creeping, now
stopping, now creeping, stopping, creeping.

All at once the gun play began again, sharp, quick,
from the spring, from the sheds. The blot lay perfectly
still for a moment — waiting, watching. The plucky
little rifle was silent. But so it had been before.
Quarter length, half, whole length, cautiously with
frequent stops, eyes so steely, so intent — could it be
possible that this gun was really silenced — out of the
race ? It would not do to trust too much. The blot
waited, scarcely breathed, crept forward again.
[102]

The Attack on the Lazy S

A sudden bright light flashed up through the dark
ness under the unprotected wall to Mary's left. Almost
simultaneously a kindred light sprang into being from
the region of the cattle-sheds. The men down there
had been waiting for this signal. It meant that for
some reason the second effort to creep up unobserved
to fire the house had been successful. The flare grew
and spread. It became a glare.

When the whole cabin seemed to be in flames save
the door, — the dry, rude boarding had caught and
burned ike paper, — when the heat had become unbear
able, Williston held out his hand to his daughter,
silently. As silently she put her hand, her left hand,
in his ; nor did Williston notice that it was her left,
nor how limply her right arm hung to her side. In
the glare, her face shone colorless, but her dark eyes
were stars. Her head was held high. With firm step,
Williston advanced to the door. Deliberately he un
barred it, as deliberately threw it open, and stepped
over the threshold. They were covered on the instant
by four rifles.

" Drop your guns ! " called the chief, roughly. Then
the desperadoes moved up.

" I take it that I am the one wanted,11 said Williston.

His voice was calm and scholarly once more. In the

uselessness of further struggle, it had lost the sharp

incisiveness that had been the call to action. If one

must die, it is good to die after a brave fight. One is

[103]

Langford of the Three Bars

never a coward then. Williston's face wore an almost
exalted look.

" My daughter is free to go ? " he asked, his first
words having met with no response. Better, much
better, for the make of a man like Williston to die in
the dignity of silence, but for Mary's sake he parleyed.

" I guess not ! " responded the leader, curtly. " If a
pulin' idiot had n't missed the broadside of you — as
pretty a mark this side heaven as man could want, —
then we might talk about the girl. She's showed up
too damned much like a man now to let her loose."

His big, shuffling form lounged in his saddle. He
raised his rifle with every appearance of lazy indiffer
ence. They were to be shot down where they stood,
now, right on the threshold of their burning homestead.

Williston bowed his head to the inevitable for
a moment; then raised it proudly to meet the
inevitable.

A rifle shot rang out startlingly clear. At the very
moment the leader's hawk's eye had swept the sight,
his rifle arm had twitched uncertainly, then fallen
nerveless to his side, while his bullet, playing a faltering
and discordant second to the first true shot, tore up the
ground in front of him and swerved harmlessly to one
side. Instantly the wildest confusion reigned, — shouts,
curses, the plunging of horses mingled with the sharp
crack of fire-arms. The shooting was wild. The sur
prise was too complete for the outlaws to recover at
[104]

The Attack on the Lazy S

once. They had heard no sound of approaching hoof-
beats. The roaring flames licking up the dry lumber,
and rendering the surrounding darkness the blacker for
the contrast, had been of saving grace to the besiegers
after all.

In a moment, the desperadoes rallied. They closed
in and imposed a cursing, malignant wall between the
rescuers and the blazing door of the shanty and what
stood and lay before it. Mary had sunk down at her
father's feet, and had no cognizance of the fierce though
brief conflict that ensued.

Presently, she was dragged roughly to her feet. A
big, muscular arm had heavy grasp of her.

"Make sure of the girl, Red ! " commanded a sharp
voice near, and it was gone out into the night.

Afterward, she heard — oh, many, many times in the
night watches — the eerie galloping of horses1 hoofs,
growing fainter and ever fainter, heard it above the
medley of trampling horses and yelling men, and knew
it for what it meant ; but to-night — this evil night —
she gave but one quick, bewildered glance into the
sinister face above her and in a soft, shuddering voice
breathed, " Please don't," and fainted.

[105]

CHAPTER X

IN WHICH THE X Y Z FIGURES SOMEWHAT
MYSTERIOUSLY

JIM MUNSON, riding his pony over the home
trail at a slow walk, drooped sleepily in his
saddle. It was not a weirdly late bedtime,
half-past ten, maybe, but he would have been sleep
ing soundly a good hour or more had this not been his
night to go to town — if he chose. He had chosen.
He would not have missed his chance for a good deal.
But his dissipation had been light. The Boss never
tolerated much along that line. He had drunk with
some congenial cronies from the Circle E outfit com
plimentary to the future well-being and increasing
wealth of this already well-known and flourishing cattle
ranch. Of course he must drink a return compliment
to the same rose-colored prosperity for the Three Bars,
which he did and sighed for more. That made two,
and two were the limit, and here was the limit over
reached already ; for there had always to be a last little
comforter to keep him from nodding in his saddle.

Before the time arrived for that, there were some
errands to be executed for the boys on duty at the
[106]

X Y Z Figures Mysteriously

home ranch. These necessitated a call at the post-
office, the purchase of several slabs of plug tobacco,
some corn-cob pipes, and some writing material for
Kin Lathrop. He must not forget the baking powder
for the cook. Woe to him, Munson, if there were
no biscuits for breakfast. Meanwhile he must not neg
lect to gather what little news was going. That would
be a crime as heinous as the forgetting of the baking
powder. But there did n't seem to be anything doing
to-night. Only the sheriff was playing again behind
the curtain. Could n't fool him. Damned hypocrite !

The errands accomplished to his satisfaction and
nothing forgotten, as frequent and close inspection of
the list written out by the Scribe proved, his comforter
swallowed, lingeringly, and regretfully, he was now
riding homeward, drowsy but vastly contented with the
world in general and particularly with his own lot
therein. It was a sleepy night, cool and soft and still.
He could walk his horse all the way if he wanted to.
There was no haste. The boys would all be in bed.
They would not even wait up for the mail, knowing his,
Jim's, innate aversion to hurry. Had he not been so
drowsy, he would like to have sung a bit ; but it re
quired a little too much effort. He would just plod
along.

Must all be in bed at Williston's — no light any
where. A little short of where the Williston branch
left the main trail, he half paused. If it were not so
[107]

Langford of the Three Bars

late, he would ride up and give them a hail. But of
course they were asleep. Everything seemed still and
dark about the premises. He would just plod along.

" Hello, there ! Where 'd you come from ? " he cried
of a sudden, and before he had had time to carry his
resolve into action.

A man on horseback had drawn rein directly in front
of him. Jim blinked with the suddenness of the shock.

"Might ask you the same question," responded, the
other with an easy laugh. " I 'm for town to see the
doctor about my little girl. Been puny for a week."

" Oh ! Where you from ? " asked Jim, with the cour
teous interest of his kind.

"New man on the X Y Z," answered the other,
lightly. " Must be gettin' on. Worried about my
baby girl."

He touched spurs to his horse and was off with a
friendly " So long," over his shoulder.

Jim rode on thoughtfully.

" Now don't it beat the devil," he was thinking,
"how that there cow-puncher struck this trail comin"1
from the X Y Z — with the X Y Z clean t' other side
o' town ? Yep, it beats the devil, for a fac\ He must
be a ridin' for his health. It beats the devil." This
last was long drawn out. He rode a little farther.
" It beats the devil," he thought again, — the wonder
of it was waking him up, — "how that blamed fool
could a1 struck this here trail a goin1 for Doc."
[108]

X Y Z Figures Mysteriously

At the branch road he stopped irresolutely.

" It beats the devil — for a fac\" He looked help
lessly over his shoulder. The man was beyond sight
and sound. " If he had n't said he was goin1 for Doc
and belonged to the X Y Z," he pondered. He was
swearing because he could not think of a way out of
the maze of contradiction. He was so seldom at a loss,
this braggadocio Jim. " Well, I reckon I won't get
any he'p a moonin' here lessen I wait here till that son-
of-a-gun comes back from seem' Doc. Lord, I 'd have
to camp out all night. Guess 1 11 be a movin' on. But
I'm plumb a-foot for an idee as to how that idjit got
here from the X Y Z."

He shrugged his shoulders and picked up the fallen
bridle-rein. He kept on straight ahead, and it was
well for him that he did so. It was not the last of the
affair. The old, prosaic trail seemed fairly bristling
with ghostly visitants that night. He had gone but a
scant quarter-mile when he met with a second horse
man, and this time he would have sworn on oath that
the man had not been on the forward trail as long as
he should have been to be seen in the starlight. Jim
was not dozing now and he knew what he was about.
The fellow struck the trail from across country and
from the direction of Williston's home cattle sheds.

" The devil ! " he muttered, and this time he was in
deep and terrible earnest.

" Hullo ! " the fellow accosted him, genially.
[ 109 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

" Too damned pleasant — the whole bunch of 'em,"
found quick lodgment in Jim's active brain. Aloud,
he responded with answering good-nature, " Hullo ! "

"Where ye goin'?" asked the other, as if in no
particular haste to part company. If he had met
with a surprise, he carried it off well.

" Home. Been to town.11 Jim was on tenter hooks
to be off.

" Belong to the Three Bars, don't you ? "

" Yep."

" Thought so. Well, good luck to you."

" Say," said Jim, suddenly, "you don't happen to
hang out at the X Y Z, do you ? "

" Naw ! What d' ye suppose I 'd be doing here this
time of night if I did ? " There was scorn in his voice
and suspicion, too. " Why ? " he asked.

" Oh, nothin'. Thought I knew your build, but I
guess I was mistaken. So long."

He had an itching desire to ask if this night traveller,
too, was in quest of the doctor, but caution held him
silent. He had need to proceed warily. He rode
briskly along until he judged he had gone far enough
to allay suspicion, then he halted suddenly. Very wide
awake was Jim now. His hand rested unconsciously on
the Colt's 45, protruding from his loosely hanging belt.
His impulse was to ride boldly back and up to Willis-
ton's door, and thus satisfy himself as to what was doing
so mysteriously. There was not a cowardly drop in
[110]

X Y Z Figures Mysteriously

Jim's circulation. But if foul play was abroad for Wil-
liston that night, he, Jim, of course, was spotted and
would never be permitted to reach the house. It would
mean a useless sacrifice. Now, he needed to be alive.
There was a crying need for his good and active service.
Afterwards — well, it was all in the day's work. It
would n't so much matter then. He touched spurs
lightly, bent his head against the friction of the air
and urged his horse to the maddest, wildest race he had
ever run since that day long ago, to be forgotten by
neither, when he had been broken to his master's will.

Paul Langford dropped one shoe nervelessly to the
wolfskin in front of his bed. Though his bachelor
room was plain in most respects, plain for the better
convenience of the bachelor hands that had it to put
to rights every day, — with the exception of a cook,
Langford kept no servant, — the wolfskin here, an
Indian blanket thrown over a stiff chair by the table, a
Japanese screen concealing the ugly little sheet-iron
stove that stood over in its corner all the year round,
gave evidence that his tastes were really luxurious. An
oil lamp was burning dimly on the table. The soot
of many burnings adhered to the chimney's inner
side.

"One would know it was Jim's week by looking at
that chimney," muttered the Boss, eyeing the offending
chimney discontentedly as he dropped the other shoe.

Langford of the Three Bars

" He seems to have an inborn aversion to cleaning
chimneys. It must be a birthmark, or maybe he was
too anxious to get to town to-night. I see I '11 have to
discipline Jim. I have to stop and think even now,
sometimes, who 's boss of this shebang, he or I. Some
times Fm inclined to the opinion that he is. Come
to think of it, though," whimsically, " I lean to a vague
misgiving that I did n't touch that low-down chimney
myself last week. We 're kind of an ornery set, I 'm
thinking, every mother's son of us — and I 'm the worst
of the lot. Sometimes I wonder if it would n't be
better for the bunch of us, if one of the boys were to
marry and bring his girl to the Three Bars. But I '11
be hanged if I know which one I 'd care to give up to
the feminine gender. Besides, she 'd be bossy — they
all are — and she 'd wear blue calico wrappers in
the morning — they all do."

He began pacing the floor in his stocking feet.

" Wish I could get that blamed little girl of Willis-
ton's out of my head to-night. Positively red-headed.
Well, call it auburn for the sake of politeness. What 's
the difference ? She 's a winner, though. Wonder why
I did n't know about her before ? Wonder if Dick 's in
love with her ? Should n't wonder. He 's plumb daffy
on the subject of the old man. Never thought of that
before. Or maybe it's Jim. No, she's not his kind."
He stopped for a moment at the open window and
looked out into the still, starry night. " Guess I '11
[112]

X Y Z Figures Mysteriously

have to let the Scribe commit matrimony, if he's
' willinV He 's the only one of the bunch — fit."

The sound of galloping hoof-beats on the hard road
below came up to him as he stood at the window. A
solitary horseman was coming that way and he was
putting his horse to the limit, too.

"Who the — deuce," began Langford. "It's Jim's
i cow pony as sure as I'm a sinner! What brings him
i home at that pace, I wonder ? Is he drunk ? "

He peered out indifferently. The hoof-beats rang
nearer and nearer, clattered through the stable yards
and, before they ceased, two or three revolver shots
rang out in rapid succession. Jim had fired into the
air to arouse the house.

Springing from his reeking bronco, he ran quickly to
the stable and threw wide the door. Here the Boss,
bhe first to gain the outside because already dressed,
found him hastily saddling a fresh mount. Langford
asked no question. That would come later. He
stepped silently to Sadie's stall.

In an incredibly short space of time the rest of the
boys came leaping out of the ranchhouse, slamming the
door behind them. To be up and doing was the meat
they fed upon. In less than ten minutes they were all
mounted and ready, five of them, silent, full to the
brim of reckless hardihood, prime for any adventure
that would serve to break the monotony of their lives.
More than that, every fibre of their being, when
8 [ 113 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

touched, would respond, a tuneful, sounding string of
loyalty to the traditions of the Three Bars and to its
young master. Each was fully armed. They asked no
question. Yet there could be no doubt of a surprise
when the time came for action. They were always pre
pared, these boys of the most popular ranch outfit west
of the river. Right in the face of this popularity, per
haps because of it, they were a bit overbearing, these
boys, and held fellowship with any outside the Three
Bars a thing not to be lightly entered into. It was a
fine thing to work for the Boss, and out of the content
accruing therefrom sprang a conservatism like that of
the proudest aristocrat of the land.

Langford took the trail first. Jim had said but the
one word, " Williston." It was enough. Nothing was
to be heard but the rapid though regular pound of
hoof-beats on the level trail. It is a silent country, the
cow country, and its gravity begets gravity.

Langford, riding slightly in advance, was having a
bad time with himself. The keenest self-reproach was
stabbing him like a physical pain. His honor — his
good honor, that he held so high and stainless — was his
word not given by it that the Willistons might count on
his sure protection ? What had he done to merit this
proud boast ? Knowing that Jesse Black was once more
at liberty, fully realizing of what vast import to the
State would be Williston's testimony when the rustlers
should be brought to trial, he had sat stupidly back and

X Y Z Figures Mysteriously

done nothing. And he had promised. Would Willis-
ton have had the courage without that promise ? Why
were not some of his cowboys even now sleeping with
an eye upon that little claim shack where lived that
scholar-man who was not fit for the rough life of the
plains, maybe, but who had been brave enough and
high-minded enough to lay his all on the white altar
of telling what he knew for right's sake. And the
girl —

" God ! The girl ! " he cried aloud.

" What did you say, Boss ? " asked Jim, pounding
alongside.

" Nothing ! " said Langford, curtly.

He spurred his mare savagely. In the shock of the
surprise, and the sting that his neglected word brought
him, he had forgotten the girl — Williston's "little
girl " with the grave eyes — the girl who was not ten
but twenty and more — the girl who had waited for
him, whom he had sent on her long way alone, joyously,
as one free of a duty that promised to be irksome —
the girl who had brought the blood to his face when,
ashamed, he had galloped off to the spring — the girl
who had closed her door when a man's curious eyes had
roved that way. How could he forget ?

The little cavalcade swept on with increased speed,
following the lead of the master. Soon the sound of
shooting was borne to them distinctly through the
quiet night.

Langford of the Three Bars

" Thank God, boys ! " cried Langford, digging in his
spurs once more. " They are not surprised ! Listen !
God ! What a plucky fight ! If they can only hold
out ! "

At that moment a tiny tongue of flame leaped up
away to the front of them, gleaming in the darkness
like a beacon light. Now there were two — they grew,
spread, leaped heavenward in mad revel. Langford's
heart sank like lead. He groaned in an exceeding
bitterness of spirit. The worst had happened. Would
they be in time ? These claim shanties burn like
paper. And the girl ! He doubted not that she had
sustained her share of the good fight. She had fought
like a man, she must die like a man, — would be the
outlaw's reasoning. He believed she would die like a
man — if that meant bravely, — but something clutched
at his heart-strings with the thought. Her big, solemn
eyes came back to him now as they had looked when
she had lifted them to him gravely as he sat his horse
and she had said she had waited for him. Was she
waiting now ?

The boys rallied to the new impetus gloriously.
They knew now what it meant and their hardy hearts
thrilled to the excitement of it, and the danger. They
swept from the main trail into the dimmer one leading
to Williston's, without diminution of speed. Presently,
the Boss drew rein with a suddenness that would have
played havoc with the equilibrium of less seasoned
[116]

. X Y Z Figures Mysteriously

horsemen than cowboys. They followed with the pre
cision and accord of trained cavalrymen. Now and
then could be seen a black, sinister figure patrolling
the burning homestead, but hugging closely the outer
skirt of darkness, waiting for the doomed door to open.

" Boys ! " began Langford. But he never gave the
intended command to charge at once with wild shout
ing and shooting to frighten away the marauders and
give warning to the besieged that rescue was at hand.
For at that moment the door opened, and Williston
and his daughter stepped out in full view of raider and
rescuer. Would there be parley ? A man, slouching in
his saddle, rode up into the circle of lurid light. Was
it Jesse Black ? There was something hauntingly fami
liar about the droop of the shoulders. That was
all ; hardly enough to hang a man.

Langford raised his rifle quickly. His nerves were
perfectly steady. His sight was never truer. His
bullet went straight to the rifle arm of the outlaw ;
with a ringing shout he rallied his comrades, spurred
his pony forward, and the little party charged the
astounded raiders with a fury of shots that made
each rustler stand well to his own support, leaving
the Willistons, for the time being, free from their
attention.

The desperadoes were on the run. They cared to
take no risk of identification. It was not easy to deter
mine how many there were. There seemed a half-dozen

Langford of the Three Bars

or more, but probably four or five at the most would
tell their number.

The flames were sinking. Williston had disappeared.
The boys scattered in wild pursuit. Wheeling his
horse, Langford was in time to see a big, muscular
fellow swing a girlish form to the saddle in front of
him. Quick as a flash he spurred forward, lifted his
heavy Coifs revolver high over his head and brought it
down on the fellow's skull with a force that knocked
him senseless without time for a sigh or moan. As his
arms fell lax and he toppled in his saddle, Langford
caught the girl and swung her free of entanglement.

" Poor little girl," he breathed over her as her white
face dropped with unconscious pathos against his big
shoulder. " Poor little girl — I 'm sorry — I did n't
mean to — honest — I 'm sorry." He chafed her hands
gently. "And I don't know where your father is,
either. Are you hurt anywhere, or have you only
fainted ? God knows I don't wonder. It was hellish.
Why, child, child, your arm ! It is broken ! Oh, little
girl, I did n't mean to — honest — honest. I 'm
sorry."

Jim rode up panting, eyes blood-shot.

" We can't find him, Boss. They've carried him off,
dead or alive."

" Is it so, Jim ? Are you sure ? How far did you
follow?"

" We must have followed the wrong lead. If any
[118]

X Y Z Figures Mysteriously

one was ridin' double, it was n't the ones we was after,
that 's one thing sure. The blamed hoss thieves pulled
clean away from us. Our hosses were plumb winded
anyway. And — there 's a deader out there, Boss,"
lowering his voice ; " I found him as I came back."

" That explains why no one was riding double," said
Langford, thoughtfully.

" How 's the gal, Boss ? "

" I don't know, Jim. I — don't know what to do
now."

His eyes were full of trouble.

" Ain't no use cryin' over spilt milk and that 's a
fac'. 'Bout as sensible as a try in' to pick it up after
it is spilt. We won't find Williston this here night,
that's one thing sure. So we'll just tote the little gal
home to the Three Bars with us."

The boys were returning, silent, gloomy, disconsolate.
They eyed the Boss tentatively. Would they receive
praise or censure ? They had worked hard.

"You're all right, boys," said Langford, smiling
away their gloom. " But about the girl. There is no
woman at the Three Bars, you know — "

" So you 'd leave her out all night to the dew and
the coyotes and the hoss thieves, would you," inter
rupted Jim, with a fine sarcasm, "jest because there
ain't no growed-up woman at the Three Bars ? What
d' ye think Williston's little gal 'd care for style ? She
ain't afraid o' us ol' grizzled fellers. I hope to the
[119]

Langford of the Three Bars

Lord there won't never be no growed-up woman at the
Three Bars, — yep, that's what I hope. I think that
mouse-haired gal reporter 'd be just tumble fussy, and I
think she's a goin' to marry a down Easterner chap,
anyway."

" Just pick up that fellow, will you, boys, and strap
him to his horse, and we '11 take him along," said Lang-
ford. " I don't believe he 's dead."

" What fellow ? " asked the Scribe, peering casually
about.

Langford had unconsciously ridden forward a bit to
meet the boys as they had clattered up shamefacedly.
Now he turned.

" Why, that fellow over there. I knocked him out."

He rode back slowly. There was no man there, nor
the trace of a man. They stared at each other a
moment, silently. Then Langford spoke.

" No, I am not going to leave Williston's little girl
out in the dew," he said, with an inscrutable smile.
"While some of you ride in to get some one to see
about that body out there and bring out the doctor,
I'll take her over to White's for to-night, anyway.
Mrs. White will care for her. Then perhaps we will
send for the ' gal reporter,' Jim."

[120]

CHAPTER XI

"YOU ARE — THE BOSS"

SHE held out her left hand with a sad little smile.
" It is good of you to come so soon," she said,
simply.

She had begged so earnestly to sit up that Mrs.
White had improvised an invalid's chair out of a huge
old rocker and a cracker box. It did very well. Then
she had partially clothed the girl in a skimpy wrapper
of the sort Langford abominated, throwing a man's
silk handkerchief where the wrapper failed to meet, and
around the injured arm. Mrs. White had then recalled
her husband from the stables where he was on the point
of mounting to join the relief party that was to set off
in search of Williston at ten o'clock. The starting
point unanimously agreed upon was to be the pitiful
remnants of Williston's home. Men shook their heads
dubiously whenever the question of a possible leading
trail was broached. The soil was hard and dry from
an almost rainless July and August. The fugitives
might strike across country anywhere with meagre
chances of their trail being traced by any.

Mrs. White and her husband, kindly souls both, lifted
the girl as gently as might be from the bed to the rudely

Langford of the Three Bars

constructed invalid's chair by the sitting-room window.
Then they had left her — the woman to putter around
her kitchen, the man to make good his appointment.
But the exertion had been too much for Mary. She
had counted on strength that she did not possess.
Where had she lost it all ? she wondered, lacking com
prehension of her exceeding weakness. To be sure, her
arm alternately ached and smarted, but one's arm was
really such a small part of one, and she had been so
strong — always. She tried to shake off the faintness
creeping over her. It was effort thrown away. She lay
back on her pillow, very white and worn, her pretty
hair tangled and loosened from its coils.

Paul came. He was dusty and travel-stained. He
had been almost continuously in his saddle since near
midnight of the night before. He was here, big, strong,
and worthy. Mary did not cry, but she remembered
how she had wanted to a few hours ago and she won
dered that she could not now. Strangely enough, it
was Paul who wanted to cry now — but he did n't. He
only swallowed hard and held her poor hand with all
gentleness, afraid to let go lest he also let go his
mastery over the almost insurmountable lump in his
throat.

" I tried to come sooner,1' he said, huskily, at last,

releasing her hand and standing before her. "But

I Ve been riding all over — for men, you know, — and

I had a talk with Gordon, too. It took time. He is

[122]

'You are — the Boss'

coming out to see you this afternoon. He is coming
with Doc. Don't you think you had better go back to
bed now ? You are so — so white. Let me carry you
back to bed before I go."

" Are you going, too ? " asked Mary, looking at him
with wide eyes of gratitude.

" Surely," he responded, quickly. " Did you think I
wouldn't?"

"I — I — did n't know. I thought — there were a
lot going — there would be enough without you. But
— I am glad. If you go, it will be all right. You will
find him if any one can."

u Won't you let me carry you back to bed till Doc
comes ? " said Langford, brokenly.

" I could not bear it in bed," she said, clearly. Her
brown eyes were beginning to shine with fever, and red
spots had broken out in her pale cheeks. " If you make
me go, I shall die. I hear it all the time when I am
lying down — galloping, galloping, galloping. They
never stop. They always begin all over again."

" What galloping, little girl ? " asked Langford,
soothingly. He saw she was becoming delirious. If
Doc and Dick would only come before he had to go.
But they were not coming until after dinner. He
gazed down the dusty road. They would wait for him,
the others. He was their leader by the natural-born
right of push and energy, as well as by his having been
the sole participant, with his own cowboys, in the last
[123]

Langford of the Three Bars

night's tragedy. But would he do well to keep them
waiting ? They had already delayed too long. And
yet how could he leave Williston's little girl like this
— even to find Williston?

" They are carrying my father away," she said, with
startling distinctness. " Don't you hear them ? If you
would listen, you could hear them. Do listen ! They
are getting faint now — you can hardly hear them.
They are fainter — fainter — fainter — "

She had raised her head. There was an alert look
on her face. She leaned slightly toward the window.

" Good God ! A man can't stand everything ! "
cried Langford, hoarsely. He tore the knotted hand
kerchief from his throat. It was as if he was choking.
Then he put his cool, strong hand to her burning fore
head and gently smoothed back the rough hair. Grad
ually, the fixed look of an indescribable horror passed
away from her face. The strained, hard eyes softened,
became dewy. She looked at him, a clinging helpless
ness in her eyes, but sweet and sane.

" Don't you worry, child," he said, comfortingly.
" They can't help finding him. Twenty men with the
sheriff start on the trail. There '11 be fifty before
night. They can't help finding him. I'm going to
stay right here with you till Doc comes. I '11 catch
up with them before they 've gone far. I '11 send word
to the boys not to wait. Must be somebody around
the house, I reckon, besides the old lady."
[124]

You are — the Boss

He started cheerily for the door.

" Mr. Langford ! "

" Yes ? "

" Please come back."

He came quickly to her.

"What is it?11

" Mr. Langford, will you grant me a favor ? "

"Certainly, Miss Mary. Anything in this world
that I can do for you, I will do. You know that, don't
you ? "

" I am all right now. I don't think I shall get crazy
again if you will let me sit here by this window and
look out. If I can watch for him, it will give me some
thing to do. You see, I could be watching all the
time for the party to come back over that little rise up
the road. I want you to promise me," she went on,
steadily, " that I may sit here and wait for you — to
come back."

" God knows you may, little girl, anyway till Doc
comes."

" You are wiser than Doc," pursued the girl. " He
is a good fellow, but foolish, you know, sometimes. He
might not understand. He might like to use authority
over me because I am his patient — when he did not
understand. Promise that I may sit up till you come
back."

" I do promise, little girl. Tell him I said so. Tell
him — "

[125]

Langford of the Three Bars

" I will tell him you are — the Boss," she said, with
a pitiful little attempt at a jest, and smiling wanly.
"He will mind — the Boss."

Langford was in agony. Perspiration was springing
out on his forehead though August was wearing away
peacefully in soft coolness with drifting depths of white
cloud as a lounging-robe, — a blessed reprieve from
the blazing sun of the long weeks which had gone
before.

" And then I want you to promise me,"" went on
Mary, quietly, " that you will not think any more of
staying behind. I could not bear that. I trust you
to go. You will, won't you ? "

" Yes, I will go. I will do anything you say. And
I want you to believe that everything will be all right.
They would not dare to kill him now, knowing that
we are after them. If we are not back to-night, you
will not worry, will you ? They had so much the
start of us."

" I will try not to worry."

" Well, good-bye. Be a good girl, won't you ? "

" I will try," she answered, wearily.

With a last look into the brave, sweet face, and
smothering a mad, uncowman-like desire to stay and
comfort this dear little woman while others rode away
in stirring quest, Langford strode from the sick-room
into the kitchen.

" Don't let her be alone any more than you oan help,
[126]

'You are — the Boss'

Mother White," he said, brusquely, " and don't worry
her about going to bed.""

"Have a bite afore you start, Mr. Langford, do,"
urged the good woman, hospitably. " You 're that
worn out you 're white around the gills. I '11 bet you
have n't had ary bite o' breakfast."

" I had forgotten — but you are right. No, thank
you, I '11 not stop for anything now. I '11 have to ride
like Kingdom come. I 'm late. Be good to her,
Mother White," this last over his shoulder as he
sprang to his mount from the kitchen stoop.

The long day wore along. Mother White was
baking. The men would be ravenous when they came
back. Many would stop there for something to eat
before going on to their homes. It might be to-night,
it might be to-morrow, it might not be until the day
after, but whenever the time did come, knowing the
men of the range country, she must have something
"by her." The pleasant fragrance of new bread just
from the oven, mixed with the faint, spicy odor of
'cinnamon rolls, floated into the cheerless sitting-room.
Mary, idly watching Mother White through the open
door as she bustled about in a wholesome-looking blue-
- checked gingham apron, longed with a childish intensity
to be out where there were human warmth and com
panionship. It was such a weary struggle to keep cob
webs out of her head in that lonely, carpetless sitting-
room, and to keep the pipe that reared itself above the
[127]

Langford of the Three Bars

squat stove, from changing into a cottonwood tree.
Some calamity seemed to hover over her all the time.
She was about to grasp the terrible truth, — she knew
she must look around. Now some one was creeping
toward her from under the bed. Unless she stared
it out of countenance, something awful would surely
come to pass.

Mother White came to the door from time to time
to ask her how she was, with floury hands, and stove
smutch on her plump cheek. She never failed to break
the evil spell. But Mary was weak, and Mrs. White
on one of her periodical pauses at the door found her
sobbing in pitiful self-abandonment. She went to her
quickly, her face full of concern.

" My dear, my dear," she cried, anxiously, " what is
it ? Tell me. Mr. Langford will never forgive me. I
did n't mean to neglect you, child. It "s only that I 'm
plumb a-foot for time. Tell me what ails you — that's
a dearie.""

Mary laid her head on the motherly shoulder and
cried quietly for a while. Then she looked up with
the faintest ghost of a smile.

" I 'm ashamed to tell you, Mother White," she half
whispered. " It is — only — that I was afraid you
had n't put enough cinnamon in the rolls. I like
cinnamon rolls."

" Lord love the child ! " gasped Mrs. White, but
without the least inclination to laugh. " Why, I
[128]

'You are — the Boss'

lit'rally buried 'em in cinnamon. I could n't afford
not to. If I do say it who should n't, my rolls is
pretty well known in Kemah County. The boys
would n't stand for no economizin' in spice. No,
sirree."

She hastened wonderingly back to her kitchen, only to
return with a heaped-up plate of sweet-smelling rolls.

" Here you are, honey, and they won't hurt you a
mite. I can't think what keeps that fool Doc." She
was getting worried. It was nearly four and he was
not even in sight.

Now that she had them, Mary did not want the
rolls. She felt they would choke her. She waited
until her kindly neighbor had trotted back to her
household cares, and pushed the plate away. She
turned to her window with an exaggerated feeling of
relief. It was hard to watch ceaselessly for some one
to top that little rise out yonder and yet for no one
ever to do it. But there were compensations. It is
really better sometimes not to see things than to see
— some things. And it was easier to keep her head
clear when she was watching the road.

A younger White, an over-grown lad of twelve,
came in from far afield. He carried a shot-gun in one
ihand and a gunny-sack thrown over his shoulder. He
slouched up and deposited the contents of the bag in
i front of Mary's window with a bashful, but sociable
grin. Mary nodded approvingly, and the boy was soon
9 [ 129 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

absorbed in dressing the fowls. What a feast there
would be that night if the men got back !

At last came the doctor and Gordon, driving up in
the doctor's top-buggy, weather-stained, mud-bedaubed
with the mud of last Spring, of many Springs. The
doctor was a badly dressed, pleasant-eyed man, past
middle age, with a fringe of gray whiskers. He was
a sort of journeyman doctor, and he had drifted hither
one day two Summers ago from the Lake Andes country
in this selfsame travel-worn conveyance with its same
bony sorrel. He had found good picking, he had often
jovially remarked since, chewing serenely away on a
brand of vile plug the while. He had elected to
remain. He was part and parcel of the cattle country
now. He was an established condition. People had
learned to accept him as he was and be grateful.
Haste was a mental and physical impossibility to him.
He took his own time. All must perforce acquiesce.

But as he took Mary's wrist between well-shaped
fingers disfigured with long, black nails, he had not
been able as yet to readjust himself to old conditions
after last night's grewsome experience. He was still
walking in a maze. He occasionally even forgot the
automatic movement of his jaws. Ah, little doctor,
something untoward must have happened to cause you
to forget that ! What that something was he was
thinking about now, and that was what made his blue
eyes twinkle so merrily.

[1301

" You are — the Boss "

Last night, — was it only last night ? — oh, way,
way in the night, when ghosts and goblins stalked
abroad and all good people were safely housed and
deeply asleep, there had come a goblin to his door
in the hotel, and cried for admittance with devilish
persistence and wealth of language. When he, the
doctor, had desired information as to the needs of
his untimely visitant, the shoulders of some prehistoric
giant had been put to the door, and it had fallen
open as to the touch of magic. A dazzling and
nether- world light had flamed up in his room, and
this Hercules-goblin with lock-destroying tendencies
had commanded him to clothe himself, with such
insistency that the mantle of nimbleness had descended
upon all the little doctor's movements. That this
marvellous agility was the result, pure and simple,
of black arts, was shown by the fact that the little
doctor was in a daze all the rest of the night. He
did not even make show of undue astonishment or
nervousness when, clothed in some wonderful and
haphazard fashion, he was escorted through the dimly
lit hall, down the dark stairway, past the office where
a night-lamp burned dully, out into the cool night air
and into the yawning depths of a mysterious vehicle
which rattled with a suspiciously familiar rattle when
it suddenly plunged into what seemed like everlasting
darkness ahead. He had felt a trifle more like himself
after he had unconsciously rammed his hand through
[131]

Langford of the Three Bars

the rent in the cushion where the hair stuffing was
coming out. But he had not been permitted the
reins, so he could not be sure if they were tied to
gether with a piece of old suspender or not; and if
that was Old Sorrel, he certainly had powers of speed
hitherto unsuspected.

Witchcraft ? Ay ! Had not he, the little doctor,
heard ghostly hoof-beats alongside all the way ? It
had been nerve-racking. Sometimes he had thought
it might just be a cow pony, but he could not be sure ;
and when he had been tossed profanely and with no
dignity into the house of one White, homesteader, with
the enigmatical words, " There, damn ye, Doc ! I reckon
ye got a move on once in your life, anyway," the voice
had sounded uncannily like that of one Jim Munson,
cow-puncher; but that was doubtless a hallucination
of his, brought about by the unusualness of the
night's adventures.

" You have worked yourself into a high fever, Miss
Williston, that 's what you 've done," he said, with
professional mournfulness.

"I know it," she smiled, wanly. "I couldn't help
it. I'm sorry."

Gordon drew up a chair and sat down by her, saying
with grave kindness, " You are fretting. We must not
let you. I am going to stay with you all night and
shoo the goblins away."

" You are kind," said Mary, gratefully. « May I tell
[132]

•'You are — the Boss'

you when they come ? If some one speaks to me, they
go away."

" Indeed you may, dear child," he exclaimed, heartily.
He had been half joking when he spoke of keeping
things away. He now perceived that these things
were more serious than he knew.

The doctor administered medicine to reduce the
fever, dressed the wounded arm, with Gordon's ready
assistance, and then called in Mother White to pre
pare the bed for his patient ; but he paused non
plussed before the weight of entreaty in Mary's eyes
and voice.

" Please don't," she cried out, in actual terror. " Oh,
Mr. Gordon, don't let him ! I see such awful things
when I lie down. Please ! Please ! And Mr. Lang-
ford said I might sit up till he came. Mr. Gordon,
you will not let him put me to bed, will you ? "

" I think it will be better to let her have her way,
Lockhart," said Gordon, in a low voice.

" Mebbe it would, Dick," said the doctor, with sur
prising meekness.

" 1 11 stay all night and I '11 take good care of her,
Lockhart. There 's Mother White beckoning to supper.
You '11 eat before you go ? No, I won't take any sup
per now, thank you, mother, I will stay with Mary."

And he did stay with her all through the long
watches of that long night. He never closed his eyes
in sleep. Sometimes, Mary would drop off into uneasy
[133]

Langford of the Three Bars

slumber — always of short duration. When she awak
ened suddenly in wide-eyed fright, he soothed her with
all tenderness. Sometimes when he thought she was
sleeping, she would clutch his arm desperately and cry
out that there was some one behind the big cotton-
wood. Again it would be to ask him in a terrified
whisper if he did not hear hoof-beats, galloping, gal
loping, galloping, and begged him to listen. He could
always quiet her, and she tried hard to keep from wan
dering; but after a short, broken rest, she would cry
out again in endless repetition of the terrors of that
awful night.

Mrs. White and several of her small progeny breathed
loudly from an adjoining room. A lamp burned dimly
on the table. It grew late — twelve o'clock and after.
At last she rested. She passed from light, broken
slumber to deep sleep without crying out and thus
awakening herself. Gordon was tired and sad. Now
that the flush of fever was gone, he saw how white and
miserable she really looked. The circles under her
eyes were so dark they were like bruises. The mantle
of his misfortune was spreading to bring others besides
himself into its sombre folds.

The men were coming back. But they were coming
quietly, in grim silence. He dared not awaken Mary
for the news he knew they must carry. He stepped
noiselessly to the door to warn them to a yet greater
stillness, and met Langford on the threshold.
[ 134]

'You are — the Boss'

The two surveyed each other gravely with clasped
hands.

" You tell her, Dick. I — I can't,11 said Lang-
ford. His big shoulders drooped as under a heavy
burden.

" Must I ? " asked Gordon,

" Dick, I — I can't," said Langford, brokenly.
" Don't you see? — if I had been just a minute sooner
— and I promised."

"Yes, I see, Paul," said Gordon, quietly. "I will
tell her."

" You need not," said a sweet clear voice from across
the room. "I know. I heard. I think I knew all
'the time — but you were all so good to make me
jhope. Don't worry about me any more, dear friends.
;I am all right now. It is much better to know. I
hope they did n't hang him. You think they shot
him, don't you?"

"Little girl, little girl," cried Langford, on his
iknees beside her, " it is not that ! It is only that we
^have not found him. But no news is good news. That
•we have found no trace proves that they have to guard
thim well because he is alive. We are going on a new
tack to-morrow. Believe me, little girl, and go to bed
now, won't you, and rest ? "

" Yes," she said, wearily, as one in whom no hope
was left, " I will go. I will mind — the Boss."

As he laid her gently on the bed, while Mrs.
[135]

Langford of the Three Bars

White, aroused from sleep, fluttered aimlessly and
drowsily about, he whispered, his breath caressing her
cheek :

" You will go to sleep right away, won't you ? "

" I will try. You are the Boss.1'

[136]

CHAPTER XII

WAITING

\Y | ^HE man found dead the night the Lazy S was

I burned out was not easily identified. He was a
half-breed, but half-breeds were many west of
-the river, and the places where they laid their heads
rat night were as shifting as the sands of that rapid,
ominous, changing stream of theirs, which ever cut
them off from the world of their fathers and kept them
bound, but restless, chafing, in that same land where
their mothers had stared stolidly at a strange little
boat-load tugging up the river that was the fore
runner of the ultimate destiny of this broad north-
west country, but which brought incidentally — as
do all big destinies in the great scheme bring sor
row to some one — wrong, misunderstanding, forget-
fulness, to a once proud, free people now in subjection.

At last the authorities found trace of him far away
at Standing Rock, through the agent there, who knew
him as of an ugly reputation, — a dissipated, roving
profligate, who had long since squandered his govern-

ent patrimony. He had been mixed up in sundry
bad affairs in the past, and had been an inveterate

mbler. So much only were the Kemah County
[ 137 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

authorities able to uncover of the wayward earthly
career of the dead man. Of his haunts and cronies
of the period immediately preceding his death, the
agent could tell nothing. He had not been seen at
the agency for nearly a year. The reprobate band
had covered its tracks well. There was nothing to
do but lay the dead body away and shovel oblivion
over its secret.

In the early morning after the return of the men
from their unsuccessful man hunt, Gordon, gray and
haggard from loss of sleep and from hard thought,
stepped out into the kitchen to stretch his cramped
limbs. He stumbled over the figure of Langford prone
upon the floor, dead asleep in utter exhaustion. He
smiled understandingly and opened the outer door
quietly, hoping he had not aroused the worn-out
Boss. The air was fresh and cool, with a hint of
Autumn sharpness, and a premature Indian Summer
haze, that softened the gauntness of the landscape, and
made the distances blue and rest-giving. He felt the
need of invigoration after his night's vigil, and struck
off down the road with long strides, in pleasant
anticipation of a coming appetite for breakfast.

Thus it was that Langford, struggling to a sitting

posture, rubbing his heavy eyes with a dim consciousness

that he had been disturbed, and wondering drowsily why

he was so stupid, felt something seeping through his

[138]

Waiting

senses that told him he did not do well to sleep. So
he decided he would take a plunge into the cold artesian
pond, and with such drastic measures banish once and
for all the elusive yet all-pervading cobwebs which
clung to him. Rising to his feet with unusual awk
wardness, he looked with scorn upon the bare floor and
accused it blindly and bitterly as the direct cause of
the strange soreness that beset his whole anatomy.
The lay of the floor had changed in a night. Where
was he ? He glanced helplessly about. Then he knew.

Thus it was, that when Mary languidly opened her
eyes a little later, it was the Boss who sat beside
ler and smiled reassuringly.

" You have not slept a wink," she cried, accusingly.

"Indeed I have," he said. "Three whole hours.
I feel tip-top."

" You are — fibbing," she said. " Your eyes look so
tired, and your face is all worn."

His heart leaped with the joy of her solicitude.

" You are wrong," he laughed, teasingly. " I slept
on the floor; and a good bed it was, too. No, Miss
Williston, I am not ' all in ' yet, by any means."

In his new consciousness, a new formality crept into
his way of addressing her. She did not seem to
notice it.

"Forgive me for forgetting, last night," she said,
earnestly. "I was very selfish. I forgot that you
had not slept for nearly two days, and were riding
[139]

Langford of the Three Bars

all the while in — our behalf. I forgot. I was tired,
and I went to sleep. I want you to forgive me. I
want you to believe that I do appreciate what you
have done. My father — "

" Don't, don't, little girl," cried Langford, forgetting
his new awe of her maidenhood in his pity for the
stricken child.

" My father,"" she went on, steadily, " would thank
you if he were here. I thank you, too, even if I die
forget to think whether or no you and all the mer
had any sleep or anything to eat last night. Will yoL
try to believe that I did not forget wittingly ? I was
so tired."

When Langford answered her, which was not imme
diately, his face was white and he spoke quietly with £
touch of injured pride.

" If you want to hurt us, Miss Williston, that is the
way to talk. We cowmen do not do things foi
thanks."

She looked at him wonderingly a moment, then said,
simply, " Forgive me," but her lips were trembling and
she turned to the wall to hide the tears that would
come. After all, she was only a woman — with nerves
— and the reaction had come. She had been brave, but
a girl cannot bear everything. She sobbed. That was
too much for Langford and his dignity. He bent over
her, all his heart in his honest eyes and broken voice.

" Now you will kill me if you don't stop it. I am
[140]

Waiting

i ill sorts of a brute — oh, deuce take me for a blunder-
ng idiot ! I did n't mean it — honest I did n't. You
»vill believe me, won't you ? There is nothing in the
world I would n't do for you, little girl."'
She was sobbing uncontrollably now.
" Mr. Langford," she cried, turning to him with
something of the past horror creeping again into her
ret eyes, " do you think I killed — that man ? "

" What man ? There was only one man killed, and
ne of my boys potted him on the run," he said.
" Are you sure ? " she breathed, in quick relief.
" Dead sure," convincingly.

" And yet," she sobbed, memory coming back with a
ush, " I wish — I wish — I had killed them all."

" So do I ! " he agreed, so forcefully that she could
>ut smile a little, gratefully. She said, with just the
aintest suggestion of color in her white cheeks :

' Where is everybody ? Have you been sitting with
ne long ? "

" Mrs. White is getting breakfast, and I have n't
•een sitting with you as long as I wish I had," he
nswered, boldly ; and then added, regretfully, " Dick
ras the man who had the luck to watch over you all
ight. I went to sleep."

" You were so tired," she said, sympathizingly.
And besides, I did n't need anything."
" It is good of you to put it that way," he said, his
eart cutting capers again.

[141]

Langford of the Three Bars

" Mr. Gordon is the best man I know," she said,
thoughtfully.

" There you are right, Miss Williston," he assented,
heartily, despite a quick little sting of jealousy. " He
is the best man I know. I wish you would shake hands
on that — will you ? "

« Surely."

He held the smooth brown hand in his firmly with
no thought of letting it go — yet.

" I am not such a bad chap myself, you know, Miss
Williston," he jested, his bold eyes flashing a challenge.

" I know it," she said, simply. " I do not know
what I should do without you. You will be good to
me always, won't you ? There is no one but me —
now."

She was looking at him trustingly, confident of his
friendship, innocent, he knew, of any feminine wile in
this her dark hour. The sweetness of it went to his
head. He forgot that she was in sorrow he could not
cure, forgot that she was looking to him in all proba
bility only as the possible saviour of her father. He
forgot everything except the fact that there was noth
ing in all the world worth while but this brown-eyed,
white-cheeked, grieving girl, and he went mad with the
quick knowledge thereof. He held the hand he had not
released to his face, brushed it against his lips, caressed
it against his breast ; then he bent forward — close —
and whispering, " I will be good to you — always —
[142]

Waiting

little girl," kissed her on the forehead and was gone just
as Gordon, filled with the life of the new day, came
swinging into the house for his well-earned breakfast.

The sheriff and his party of deputies made a dili-
igent search for Williston that day and for many days
)to come. It was of no avail. He had disappeared, and
all trace with him, as completely as if he had been
spirited away in the night to another world — body
and soul. That the soul of him had really gone to
another world came to be generally believed — Mary
held no hope after the return of the first expedition ;
but why could they find no trace of his body ? Where
was it ? Where had it found a resting place ? Was it
possible for a man, quick or dead, even west of the
river in an early day of its civilization when the law
had a winking eye, to fall away from his wonted haunts
tin a night and leave no print, neither a bone nor a rag
[nor a memory, to give mute witness that this way he
passed, that way he rested a bit, here he took horse,
;here he slept, with this man he had converse, that man
>aw his still body borne hence? Could such a thing
? It seemed so.

After a gallant and dauntless search, which lasted
trough the best days of September, Langford was
breed to let cold reason have its sway. He had
:hought, honestly, that the ruffians would not dare
immit murder, knowing that they were being pur-
ued ; but now he was forced to the opinion that they
[ 143 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

had dared the worst, after all. For, though it would be
hard to hide all trace of a dead man, infinitely greater
would be the difficulty in covering the trail of a living
one, — one who must eat and drink, who had a mouth
to be silenced and strength to be restrained. It came
gradually to him, the belief that Willis ton was dead ;
but it came surely. With it came the jeer of the spectre
that would not let him forget that he should have fore
seen what would surely happen. With it came also a
great tenderness for Mary, and a redoubled vigilance
to keep his unruly tongue from blurting out things
that would hurt her who was looking to him, in the
serene confidence in his good friendship, for brotherly
counsel and comfort.

In the first dark days of his new belief, he spoke to
Gordon, and the young lawyer had written a second
letter to the " gal reporter." In response, she came at
once to Kemah and from thence to the White homestead
in the Boss's " own private." This time the Boss did
the driving himself, bringing consternation to the
heart of one Jim Munson, cow-puncher, who viewed
the advent of her and her " mouse-colored hair " with
serious trepidation and alarm. What he had dreaded
had come to pass. 'T was but a step now to the
Three Bars. A fussy woman would be the means of
again losing man his Eden. It was monstrous. He
sulked, aggrievedly, systematically.

Louise slipped into the sad life at the Whites'*

Waiting

easily, sweetly, adaptably. Mary rallied under her
gentle ministrations. There was — would ever be —
a haunting pathos in the dark eyes, but she arose from
her bed, grateful for any kindness shown her, strong
in her determination not to be a trouble to any one
by giving way to weak and unavailing tears. If she
ever cried, it was in the night, when no one knew.
Even Louise, who slept with her, did not suspect the
truth for some time. But one night she sat straight
up in bed suddenly, out of her sleep, with an indefinable
intuition that it would be well for her to be awake.
Mary was lying in a strange, unnatural quiet. In
stinctively Louise reached out a gentle, consoling hand
to her. She was right. Mary was not sleeping. The
following night the same thing happened, and the next
night also ; but one night when she reached over to
comfort, she found her gentle intention frustrated by
a pillow under which Mary had hidden her head while
she gave way guardedly to her pent-up grief.

Louise changed her tactics. She took Mary on long
walks over the prairie, endeavoring to fatigue her into
sleep. The length of these jaunts grew gradually and
systematically. It came at last to be an established
order of the day for the two girls to strike off early,
with a box of luncheon strapped over Louise's shoulder,
for — nowhere in particular, but always somewhere that
consumed the better part of the day in the going and
coming. Sometimes the hills and bluffs of the river
10 [ 145 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

region drew them. Sometimes a woman's whim made
them hold to a straight line over the level distance
for the pure satisfaction of watching the horizon across
illimitable space remain stationary and changeless,
despite their puny efforts to stride the nearer to it.
Sometimes, when they chose the level, they played, like
children, that they would walk and walk till the low-
lying horizon had to change, until out of its hazy
enchantment rose mountain-peaks and forests and val
leys and cities. It proved an alluring game. A great
and abiding friendship grew out of this wanderlust,
cemented by a loneliness that each girl carried closely
in the innermost recesses of her heart and guarded
jealously there. It was a like loneliness in the little
ness and atom-like inconsequence of self each must hug
to her breast, — and yet, how unlike ! Louise was alone
in a strange, big land, but there was home for her some- \
where, and kin of her own kind to whom she might flee
when the weight of alienism pressed too sorely. But
Mary was alone in her own land ; there was nowhere
to flee to when her heart rebelled and cried out in the
bitterness of its loneliness ; this was her home, and she
was alone in it.

Louise learned to love the plains country. She rev
elled in its winds; the high ones, blowing bold and
free with their call to throw off lethargy and stay fromj
drifting ; the low ones, sighing and rustling through the]
already dead grass — a mournful and whispering lament)
[ 146 ]

LOVED TO CLIMB TO THE SUMMIT OF ONE OF THE BARKEN HILLS
FLANKING THE RIVEU, AND STAND THERE WHILE THE WIND BLEW.

Waiting

for the Summer gone. She had thought to become
reconciled to the winds the last of all. She was a prim
little soul with all her sweet graciousness, and dearly
desired her fair hair ever to be in smooth and decorous
coil or plait. Strangely enough, the winds won her first
allegiance. She loved to climb to the summit of one
of the barren hills flanking the river and stand there
while the wind just blew and blew. Loosened tendrils
of hair bothered her little these days. She relegated
hats and puny, impotent hat-pins to oblivion. Her
hair roughened and her fair skin tanned, but neither
did these things bother her. It was the strength of
the wind and the freedom, and because it might blow
where it listed without regard to the arbitrary and self-
important will of strutting man, that enthralled her
imagination. It came about that the bigness and lone
liness of this big country assumed a like aspect. It
was not yet subjugated. The vastness of it and the
untrammelled freedom of it, though it took her girl's
breath away, was to dwell with her forever, a sublime
memory, even when the cow country — unsubjugated — —
was only a retrospection of silver hairs.

Mary, because of her abounding health, healed of her
wound rapidly. Langford took advantage of the girls'
absorption in each other's company to ride often and
length on quests of his own creation. With Octo-
r, Louise must join Judge Dale for the Autumn
>rm of court. He haunted the hills. He was not
[147]

Langford of the Three Bars

looking now for a living man ; he was seeking a clev
erly concealed grave. He flouted the opinion — held
by many — that the body had been thrown into the
Missouri and would wash ashore some later day many
and many a mile below. He held firmly to his fixed
idea that impenetrable mystery clouding the ultimate
close of Willis ton's earthly career was the sought aim
of his murderers, and they would risk no river's giv
ing up its dead to their undoing.

It had been ascertained beyond reasonable doubt
that Williston could not have left the country in any
of the usual modes. His description was at all the
stations along the line, together with the theory that
he would be leaving under compulsion.

Meanwhile, Gordon had buckled down for the big
fight. He was sadly handicapped, with the whole prop
of his testimony struck from under him by Williston's
disappearance. However, those who knew him best —
the number was not large — looked for things to hap
pen in those days. They, the few, the courageous
minority, through all the ups and downs — with the
balance in favor of the downs most of the time —
of the hardest-fought battle of his life, the end of
which left him gray at the temples, maintained a
deep and abiding faith in this quiet, unassuming
young man, who had squared his shoulders to this
new paralyzing blow and refused to be knocked out,
who walked with them and talked with them, but
[148]

Waiting

kept his own counsel, abided his time, and in the
meantime — worked.

One day, Langford was closeted with him for a long
two hours in his dingy, one-roomed office on the ground
floor. The building was a plain wooden affair with its
square front rising above the roof. In the rear was a
lean-to where Gordon slept and had his few hours of
privacy.

" It won't do, Paul," Gordon said in conclusion. " I
have thought it all out. We have absolutely nothing
to go upon — nothing at least but our own convictions
and a bandaged arm, and they won't hang a man with
Jesse's diabolical influence. We '11 fight it out on the
sole question of ' Mag,' Paul. After that — well —
who knows? Something else may turn up. There
may be developments. Meanwhile, just wait. There
will be justice for Willis ton yet."

[149]

CHAPTER XIII

MRS. HIGGINS RALLIES TO HER COLORS

THE Kemah County Court convened on a Tues
day, the second week in December. The Judge
coming with his court reporter to Velpen on
Monday found the river still open. December had
crept softly to its appointed place in the march of
months with a gentle heralding of warm, southwest
winds.

"Weather breeder," said Mrs. Higgins of the Bon
Ami, with a mournful shake of her head. " You mark
my words and remember I said it. It 's a sorry day for
the cows when the river 's running in December.*"

She was serving the judicial party herself, and capa
bly, too. She dearly loved the time the courts met, on
either side of the river. It brought many interesting
people to the Bon Ami, although not often the Judge.
His coming for supper was a most unusual honor, and
it was due to Louise, who had playfully insisted. He
had humored her much against his will, it must be con
fessed; for he had a deeply worn habit of making
straight for the hotel from the station and there
remaining until Hank Bruebacher, liveryman, who
never permitted anything to interfere with or any one
[150]

Mrs. Higgins Rallies to her Colors

to usurp his prerogative of driving his honor to and
from Kemah when court was in session, whistled with
shameless familiarity the following morning to make
his honor cognizant of the fact that he, Hank, was
ready. But he had come to the Bon Ami because
Louise wished it, and he reflected whimsically on the
astonishment, amounting almost to horror, on the face
of his good landlord at the Velpen House when it
became an assured fact that he was not and had not
been in the dining-room.

" You are right, Mrs. Higgins," assented the Judge
gravely to her weather predictions, " and the supper
you have prepared for us is worthy the hand that
serves it. Kings and potentates could ask no better.
Louise, dear child, I am fond of you and I hope you
will never go back East."

" Thank you, Uncle Hammond," said Louise, who
knew that an amusing thought was seeping through
this declaration of affection. " I am sorry to give you
a heartache, but I am going back to God's country
some day, nevertheless."

" Maybe so — maybe not," said the Judge. " Mrs.
Higgins, my good woman, how is our friend, the
canker-worm, coming on these days ? "

" Canker-worm ? " repeated Mrs. Higgins. " Meanin\
your honor — "

" Just what I say — canker-worm. Is n't he the
worm gnawing in discontent at the very core of the
[151]

Langford of the Three Bars

fair fruit of established order and peace in the cow
country ? "

"I — I — don't understand, your honor," faltered
the woman, in great trepidation. Would his honor
consider her a hopeless stupid? But what was the
man talking about? Louise looked up, a flush of
color staining her cheeks.

" Maybe fire-brand would suit you better, madame ?
My young friend, the fire-brand," resumed the Judge,
rising. " That is good — fire-brand. Is he not inciting
the populace to ' open rebellion, false doctrine, and
schism'? Is it not because of him that roofs are
burned over the very heads of the helpless home
steader ? "

"For shame, Uncle Hammond," exclaimed Louise,
still flushed and with a mutinous little sparkle in her
eyes. " You are poking fun at me. You have n't any
right to, you know ; but that 's your way. I don't care,
but Mrs. Higgins does n't understand."

" Don't you, Mrs. Higgins ? " asked the Judge.

" No, I don't," snapped Mrs. Higgins, and she did n't,
but she thought she did. " Only if you mean Mr.
Richard Gordon, I '11 tell you now there ain't no one
in this here God-forsaken country who can hold a
tallow candle to him. Just put that in your pipe and
smoke it, will you ? "

She piled up dishes viciously. She did not wait for
her guests to depart before she began demolishing the
[153]

Mrs. Higgins Rallies to her Colors

table. It was a tremendous breach of etiquette, but
she did n't care. To have an ideal shattered ruthlessly
is ever a heart-breaking thing.

"But my dear Mrs. Higgins," expostulated the
Judge.

" You need n't," said that lady, shortly. " I don't
care," she went on, " if the president himself or an arch
angel from heaven came down here and plastered Dick
Gordon with bad-smellin' names from the crown of his
little toe to the tip of his head, I 'd tell 'em to their
very faces that they did n't know what they was
a talkin' about, and what 's more they 'd better go back
to where they belong and not come nosin' round in
other people's business when they don't understand one
single mite about it. We don't want 'm puttin' their
fingers in our pie when they don't know a thing about
us or our ways. That 's my say," she closed, with
appalling significance, flattering herself that no one
could dream but that she was dealing in the most off
hand generalities. She was far too politic to antago
nize, and withal too good a woman not to strike for a
friend. She congratulated herself she had been true to
all her gods — and she had been.

Louise smiled in complete sympathy, challenging the
Judge meanwhile with laughing eyes. But the Judge —
he was still much of a boy in spite of his grave call
ing and mature years — just threw back his blonde
head and shouted in rapturous glee. He laughed till
[153]

Langford of the Three Bars

the very ceiling rang in loud response; laughed till
the tears shone in his big blue eyes. Mrs. Higgins
looked on in undisguised amazement, hands on hips.

" Dear me, suz ! " she sputtered, " is the man gone
clean daffy ? "

" Won't you shake hands with me, Mrs. Higgins ? "
he asked, gravely. " I ask your pardon for my levity,
and I assure you there is n't a man in the whole world
I esteem more or hold greater faith in than Dick
Gordon — or love so much. I thank you for your
championship of him. I would that he had more
friends like you. Louise, are you ready ?"

Their walk to the hotel was a silent one. Later, as
she was leaving him to go to her own room, Louise laid
her head caressingly on her uncle's sleeve.

" Uncle Hammond," she said, impulsively, " you are
— incorrigible, but you are the best man in all the
world."

" The very best ? " he asked, smilingly.

" The very best," she repeated, firmly.

There was a full calendar that term, and the close of
the first week found the court still wrestling with crim
inal cases, with that of Jesse Black yet uncalled. Gor
don reckoned that Black's trial could not possibly be
taken up until Tuesday or Wednesday of the following
week. Long before that, the town began filling up for
the big rustling case. There were other rustling cases
on the criminal docket, but they paled before this one
[154]

Mrs. Higgins Rallies to her Colors

where the suspected leader of a gang was on trial.
The interested and the curious did not mean to miss
any part of it. They began coming in early in the
week. They kept coming the remainder of that week
and Sunday as well. Even as late as Monday, delayed
range riders came scurrying in, leaving the cattle mostly
to shift for themselves. The Velpen aggregation, bet
ter informed, kept to its own side of the river pretty
generally until the Sunday, at least, should be past.

The flats southeast of town became the camping
grounds for those unable to find quarters at the hotel,
and who lived too far out to make the nightly ride
home and back in the morning. They were tempted by
the unusually mild weather. These were mostly Indians
and half-breeds, but with a goodly sprinkling of cow
boys of the rougher order. Camp-fires spotted the
plain, burning redly at night. There was plenty of
drift-wood to be had for the hauling. Blanketed
Indians squatted and smoked around their fires — a
revival of an older and better day for them. Sometimes
they stalked majestically through the one street of the
town.

The judicial party was safely housed in the hotel,
with the best service it was possible for the manage
ment to give in this busy season of congested patronage.
It was impossible to accommodate the crowds. Even
the office was jammed with cots at night. Mary Wil-
liston had come in from White's to be with Louise.
[ 155 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

She was physically strong again, but ever strangely
quiet, always sombre-eyed.

" What shall I do, Louise ? " she asked, one night.
They were sitting in darkness. From their east window
they could see the gleaming red splotches that were
fires on the flat.

" What do you mean, Mary ? " asked Louise, dream
ily. She was thinking how much sterner Gordon grew
every day. He still had a smile for his friends, but he
always smiled under defeat. That is what hurt so.
She had noticed that very evening at supper how gray
his hair was getting at the temples. He had looked
lonely and sad. Was it then all so hopeless?

"I mean, to make a living for myself," Mary an
swered, earnestly. "There is no one in the world
belonging to me now. There were only father and I.
What shall I do, Louise?"

" Mary, dear, dear Mary, what are you thinking of
doing ? "

" Anything," she answered, her proud reticence giv
ing way before her need, " that will keep me from the
charity of my friends. The frock I have on, plain as it
is, is mine through the generosity of Paul Langford.
The bread I eat he pays for. He — he lied to me,
Louise. He told me the cowmen had made a purse for
my present needs. They had n't. It was all from him.
I found out. Mrs. White is poor. She can't keep a
great, strapping girl like me for nothing. I am such
[156]

Mrs. Higgins Rallies to her Colors

a hearty eater, and he has been paying her, Louise, for
what I ate. Think of it ! I thought I should die
when I found it out. I made her promise not to take
another cent from him — for me. So I have been
working to make it up. I have washed and ironed and
scrubbed and baked. I was man of affairs at the ranch
while Mr. White went out with the gang for the Fall
round-up. I have herded. But one has to have things
besides one's bread. The doctor was paid out of that
make-believe purse, but it must all be made up to
Paul Langford — every cent of it."

" Mr. Langford would be very much hurt if you
should do that," began Louise, slowly. "It was be
cause of him, you know, primarily, that — "

" He owes me nothing," interrupted Mary, sharply.

" Oh," said Louise, smiling in the dark.

" I believe I could teach school," went on Mary, with
feverish haste, " if I could get a school to teach."

"I should think Mr. Gordon could help you to
secure a place here," said Louise.

" I have not told Mr. Gordon my troubles," said
Mary, gravely. " I should not dream of intruding
with such petty affairs while his big fight is on — his
glorious fight. He will avenge my father. Nothing
matters but that. He has enough to bear — without "
a woman's trivial grievances."

" But he would be glad to take that little trouble
for you if he knew," persisted Louise. She was feeling
[ 157 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

small and of little worth in the strength of Mary's
sweeping independence. She was hauntingly sure that
in like circumstances she would be weak enough to take
her trouble to — a man like Gordon, for instance. It
came to her, there in the dark, that maybe he loved
Mary. She had no cause to wonder, if this were true.
Mary was fine — beautiful, lovable, stanch and true
and capable, and he had known her long before he
knew there was such a creature in existence as the in
significant, old-maidenish, mouse-haired reporter from
the East. The air of the room suddenly became
stifling. She threw open a window. The soft, damp
air of the cloudy, warm darkness floated in and caressed
her hot cheeks. Away, away over yonder, beyond the
twinkling camp-fires on the flat, across the river, away
to the east, were her childhood's home and her kin.
Here were the big, unthinking, overbearing cow coun
try and — the man who loved Mary Williston, maybe.

It was getting late bedtime. Men were shuffling
noisily through the hall on their way to their rooms.
Scraps of conversation drifted in to the two girls.

" He's a fool to make the try without Williston."

"It takes some folks a mighty long time to learn
their place in this here county.""

" Well, I reckon he thinks the county kin afford to
stand good for his fool play."

" He 11 learn his mistake — when Jesse gets out."

" Naw ! Not the ghost of a show ! "
[158]

Mrs. Higgins Rallies to her Colors

" He 'd ought to be tarred and feathered and shot
full o' holes, and shipped back to where he come from
to show his kind how we deal with plumb idjits west o'
the river."

"Well, hell dance a different stunt 'gainst this is
over."

« You bet ! Jesse '11 do his stunt next."

And then they heard the lazy doctor's voice drawling,
" Mebby so, but let 's wait and see, shall we ? "

Men's minds were set unshiftingly on this coming
trial. How Gordon would have to fight for a fair jury !

"I think it is as you said," said Mary, presently.
" Mr. Langford feels he owes me — bread and clothes,
He is anxious to pay off the debt so there will be
nothing on his conscience. He owes me nothing, noth
ing, Louise, but he is a man and he thinks he can pay
off any obligation he may feel."

" That is a harsh motive you ascribe to Mr. Lang-
ford," said Louise, closing the window and coming to
sit affectionately at Mary's feet. " I don't think he
means it in that way at all. I think it is a fine and
delicate and manly thing he has done. He did not
intend for you to know — or any one. And don't you
think, Mary, that the idea of making up a purse should
have come from some one else — just as he tried to
make you believe ? It was not done, so what was
left for Mr. Langford to do ? He had promised to
see your father through. He was glad to do it. I
[ 159 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

think it was fine of him to do — what he did — the
way he did it."

She had long thought the Boss dreamed dreams of
Mary. She was more sure of it than ever to-night.
And now if Gordon did, too — well, Mary was worth
it. But she would be sorry for one of them some day.
They were fine men — both of them.

"But I shall pay him back — every cent," replied
Mary, firmly. " He owes me nothing, Louise, nothing,
I tell you. I will not accept alms — of him. You see
that I could n't, don't you ? "

" I know he does not feel he owes you anything — in
the way you are accusing him," answered Louise, wisely.
" He is doing this because you are you and he cannot
bear to think of you suffering for things when he wants
to help you more than he could dare to tell you now.
Mary, don't you see ? I think, too, you must pay
him back some day, but don't worry about it. You
would hurt him too much if you do not take plenty of
time to get strong and well before repaying him — pal
try dollars. There will be a way found, never fear.
Meanwhile you can amuse yourself correcting my tran
scripts to keep you content till something turns up, and
we will make something turn up. Wait until this
term is over and don't fret. You won't fret, will you ? "
" I will try not to, Louise," said Mary, with a little
weary gesture of acquiescence.

[160]

CHAPTER XIV

CHANNEL ICE

A JOLLY party set off for Velpen Sunday morn
ing. Hank Bruebacher had remained over night
on purpose to escort them to the river in his
'bus. It had been caught on the wrong side. The
channel had closed over about the middle of the week.
The ice had been very thin at first ; there had been
no drop of the thermometer, but a gradual lowering
night after night had at last made men deem it safe
to cross on foot. A rumor to this effect had drifted in
to the tired jurors hanging around and killing time,
waiting to be called. Sunday in Kemah was impossible
— to many. Besides, they had had a week of it. They
were sure of a good dinner at Velpen. where there had
been no such fearful inroads on the supplies, and the
base of whose supplies, moreover, was not cut off as it
was at Kemah by the closing of the river, which was
not yet solid enough for traffic. That consideration
held weight with many. Saloon service was a little
better, and that, too, had its votaries. Business ap
pointments actuated Gordon and perhaps a few others.
Ennui pure and simple moved the Court and the
Court's assistant.

n [ 161 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

It was about ten in the morning. It was frosty, but
bright, and the little cold snap bade fair to die prema
turely. It surely was wonderful weather for South
Dakota.

" Where is Mary ? " asked the Judge, as Louise came
lightly down the stairs, ready to put on her gloves.

" She went out to the Whites' an hour or so ago —
to do the week's washing, I suspect. Mr. Langford
took her out."

" Louise ! On Sunday ! " Even the tolerant Judge
was shocked.

" It 's true, Uncle Hammond," persisted Louise,
earnestly.

She wore a modish hat that was immensely becom
ing, and looked charming. Gordon stood at the worn,
wooden steps, hat off, despite the nipping air, wait
ing to assist her to the place the gallant Hank had
reserved for her.

He sat down at her right, Judge Dale at her left.
The jurymen filled the other places rapidly. The
heavy wagon lurched forward. The road was good ;
there had been no snows or thaws. Now was Hank in
his element. It is very probable that he was the most
unreservedly contented man in seven States that fair
Sunday morning — always excepting Munson of the
Three Bars. A few straggling buckboards and horse
men brought up the rear. Judge Dale, taking to him
self as much room as it was possible to confiscate with
[162]

Channel Ice

elbows slyly pressed outward chickenwing-wise, fished
out his newspaper leisurely, leaned over Gordon to say
in a matter-of-fact voice, " Just amuse Louise for a lit
tle while, will you, Dick, while I glance at the news ;
you won't have to play, just talk, — she likes to talk,"
and buried himself in the folds of the jiggling paper ;
much jiggled because Hank had no intention of per
mitting any vehicle to pass the outfit of which the
Judge was passenger while he, Hank Bruebacher, held
the reins. He was an authority of the road, and as
such, he refused to be passed by anything on wheels.

The rattle of the wagon drowned all coherent con
versation. The Judge's outspread arms had forced
Louise very close to her neighbor on the right, who
had the instructions to keep her amused, but even then
he must bend his head if he were to obey orders strictly
and — talk. He chose to obey. Last night, he had
been worn out with the strain of the week ; he had
not been able to forget things. To-day, — well, to-day
was to-day.

" Are you going to hear the bishop ? " asked Louise.
It was a little hard to make conversation when every
time one lifted one's eyes one found one's self so start-
lingly close to a man's fine face.

"Surely!" responded Gordon. "An incomparable
scholar — an indefatigable workman — truest of saints."
There was grave reverence in his lowered voice.

" You know him well ? "

[163]

Langford of the Three Bars

" Yes. I see him often in his Indian mission work.
He is one of the best friends I have.11

The river gleamed with a frozen deadness alongside.
The horses1 hoofs pounded rhythmically over the hard
ened road. Opposite, a man who had evidently found
saloon service in Kemah pretty good, but who doubtless
would put himself in a position to make comparisons
as soon as ever his unsteady feet could carry him there,
began to sing a rollicking melody in a maudlin falsetto.

" Shut up ! " One of the men nudged him roughly.

" Right you are,11 said the singer, pleasantly, whose
name was Lawson. " It is not seemly that we lift
up our voices in worldly melody on this holy day
and — in the presence of a lady,11 with an elaborate
bow and a vacant grin that made Louise shrink
closer to the Judge. " I suggest we all join in a
sacred song.11 He followed up his own suggestion
with a discordant burst of " Yes, we will gather at
the river.1'

"He means the kind o1 rivers they have in the
' Place around the Corner,1 " volunteered Hank, turning
around with a knowing wink. " They have rivers there
— plenty of 'em — only none of ""em ever saw water.11

" I tell you, shut up,11 whispered the man who had
first chided. " Can't you see there ?s a lady present ?
No more monkey-shines or we 11 oust you. Hear ? "

" I bow to the demands of the lady,11 said Lawson,
subsiding with happy gallantry.
[164]

Channel Ice

" You have many ' best friends ' for a man who
boasted not so long ago that he stood alone in the cow
country," said Louise, resuming the interrupted con
versation with Gordon.

" He is one of the fingers," retorted Gordon. " I
confessed to one hand, you will remember."

"Let me see," said Louise, musingly. She began
counting on her own daintily gloved hand.

" Mrs. Higgins is the thumb, you said ? " question-
ingly.

"Yes."

" Mr. Langford is the first finger, of course ? "

" Of course."

" And Uncle Hammond is the middle finger ? "

" You have said it."

" And the bishop is the third finger ? "

" He surely is."

" And — and — Mary is the next ? "

" Sorceress ! You have guessed all right."

" Then where am I ? " she challenged, half in earnest,
half in fun. " You might have left at least the little
finger for me."

He laughed under his breath — an unsteady sort of
laugh, as if something had knocked at his habitual
self-control. There was only one answer to that gay,
mocking challenge — only one — and that he could
not give. He forgot for a little while that there
were other people in the wagon. The poor babbling,
[165]

Langford of the Three Bars

grinning man across the way was not the only drunken
man therein. Only one answer, and that to draw
the form closer — closer to him — against his heart —
for there was where she belonged. Fingers ? What
did he care for fingers now ? He wanted to lay his
face down against her soft hair — it was so perilously
near. If only he might win in his fight ! But even so,
what would it matter ? What could there ever be for
her in this cruel, alien land ? She had been so kindly
and lovingly nurtured. In her heart nestled the home
call — for all time. She was bound in its meshes.
They would draw her sooner or later to her sure and
inevitable destiny. And what was there for him else
where — after all these years ? Kismet. He drew a
long breath.

" I 'm a poor maverick, I suppose, marked with
no man's friendship. But you see I 'm learning the
language of the brotherhood. Why don't you com
pliment me on my adaptability?"

She looked up smilingly. She was hurt, but he
should never know it. And he, because of the pain in
him, answered almost roughly :

" It is not a language for you to learn. You will
never learn. Quit trying. You are not like us."

She, because she did not understand, felt the old

homesick choking in her throat, and remembered with a

reminiscent shudder of the first awful time she had

spun along that road. Everybody seemed to spin

[ 166 ]

Channel Ice

in this strange land. She felt herself longing for the
fat, lazy, old jogging horses of her country home.
Horses could n't hurry there because the hills were too
many and the roads too heavy. These lean, shaggy,
range-bred horses were diabolical in their predilection
for going. Hank's surely were no exception to the
rule. He pulled them up with a grand flourish at the
edge of the steep incline leading directly upon the pon
toon that bridged the narrowed river on the Kemah
side of the island, and they stopped dead still with the
cleanness worthy of cow ponies. The suddenness of
the halt precipitated them all into a general mix-up.
Gordon had braced himself for the shock, but Louise
was wholly unprepared. She was thrown violently
against him. The contact paled his face. The soft
hair he had longed to caress in his madness brushed his
cheek. He shivered.

"Oh!" cried Louise, laughing and blushing, "I
was n't expecting that ! "

Most of the men were already out and down on
the bridge. A lone pedestrian was making his way
across.

" All safe ? " queried Judge Dale, as he came up.

" A little thin over the channel, but all safe if you
cross a- foot."

" Suppose we walk across the island," suggested the
Judge, who occasionally overcame his indolence in spas
modic efforts to counteract his growing portliness,
[ 167 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

"and our friend Hank will meet us here in the
morning."

So it was agreed. The little party straggled gayly
across the bridge. The walk across the island was far
from irksome. The air was still bracing, though rags
of smoky cloud were beginning to obscure the sun.
The gaunt cottonwoods stood out in sombre silhouette
against the unsoftened bareness of the winter landscape.
Louise was somewhat thoughtful and pensive since her
little attempt to challenge intimacy had been so un
graciously received. To Gordon, on the other hand,
had come a strange, new exhilaration. His blood
bounded joyously through his veins. This was his
day — he would live it to the dregs. To-morrow,
and renunciation — well, that was to-morrow. He
could not even resent, as, being a man, he should have
resented, the unwelcome and ludicrous attentions of
the drunken singer to the one woman in the crowd,
because whenever the offender came near, Louise would
press closer to him, Gordon, and once, in her quick dis
taste to the proximity of the man, she clutched Gor-
don^s coat-sleeve nervously. It was the second time he
had felt her hand on his arm. He never forgot either.
But the man received such a withering chastisement
from Gordon's warning eyes that he ceased to molest
until the remainder of the island road had been
traversed.

Then men looked at each other questioningly. A
[168]

Channel Ice

long, narrow, single-plank bridge stretched across the
channel. It was not then so safe as report would have
it. The boards were stretched lengthwise with a long
step between each board and the next. What was to
be done ? Hank had gone long since. No one coveted
the long walk back to Kemah. Every one did covet
the comfort or pleasure upon which each had set his
heart. Gordon, the madness of his intoxication still
upon him, constituted himself master of ceremonies.
He stepped lightly upon the near plank to reconnoitre.
He walked painstakingly from board to board. He
was dealing in precious freight — he would draw no
rash conclusions. When he had reached what he con
sidered the middle of the channel, he returned and
pronounced it in his opinion safe, with proper care,
and advised strongly that no one step upon a plank
till the one in front of him had left it. Thus the
weight of only one person at a time would materially
lessen the danger of the ice's giving way. So the
little procession took up its line of march.

Gordon had planned that Louise should follow her
uncle and he himself would follow Louise; thus he
might rest assured that there would be no encroach
ment upon her preserves. The officious songster, con
trary to orders, glided ahead of his place when the line
of march was well taken up — usurping anybody's plank
at will, and trotting along over the bare ice until finally
he drew alongside Louise with an amiable grin.
[169]

Langford of the Three Bars

" I will be here ready for emergencies," he confided,
meaningly. " You need not be afraid. If the ice
breaks, I will save you.11

" Get back, you fool,11 cried Gordon, fiercely.

" And leave this young lady alone ? Not so was I
brought up, young man,11 answered Lawson, with great
dignity. " Give me your hand, miss, I will steady you.11

Louise shrank from his touch and stepped back to
the end of her plank.

" Get on that plank, idiot ! " cried Gordon, wrath-
fully. " And if you dare step on this lady's board
again, 1 11 wring your neck. Do you hear ? "

He had stepped lightly off his own plank for a
moment while he drew Louise back to it. The ice
gave treacherously, and a little pool of water showed
where his foot had been. Louise faltered.

" It — it — flows so fast,11 she said, nervously.

" It is nothing,11 he reassured her. " I will be more
careful another time.1'

It was a perilous place for two. He hurried her to
the next board as soon as the subdued transgressor had
left it, he himself holding back.

It was indeed an odd procession. Dark figures bal
anced themselves on the slim footing, each the length
of a plank from the other, the line seeming to stretch
from bank to bank. It would have been ludicrous
had it not been for the danger, which all realized.
Some half-grown boys, prowling along the Velpen shore
[170]

Channel Ice

looking for safe skating, gibed them with flippant
rudeness.

Lawson took fire.

" Whoop "er up, boys," he yelled, waving his hat
enthusiastically.

He pranced up gayly to the Judge, tripping along
on the bare ice.

" Your arm, your honor," he cried. " It is a blot
on my escutcheon that I have left you to traverse this
danger-bristling way alone — you, the Judge. But
trust me. If the ice breaks, I will save you. I swim
like a fish."

" My friend," said Dale, fixing on him eyes of calm
disapproval, " if you are the cause of my being forced
to a cold-water plunge bath against my wishes, I will
sentence you to the gallows. Now go ! "

He went. He was hurt, but he was not deterred.
He would wait for the lady. A gentleman could do
no less. Louise stopped. Gordon stopped. The whole
back line stopped. Each man stood to his colors and
— his plank. Louise, glancing appealingly over her
shoulder, gave an hysterical little laugh.

" Move on ! " cried Gordon, impatiently.

Instead of moving on, however, Lawson came confi
dently toward Louise. She stifled a little feminine
scream in her handkerchief and stepped hastily back
ward.

" Don't be afraid," said Lawson.
[171]

Langford of the Three Bars

Gordon repressed a rising oath, and cried out, " If
you dare — ," but Lawson had already dared. His
heavy step was upon Louise's frail support. She
thought shudderingly, intuitively, of the dark, swift,
angry current under its thin veneer of ice — the cur
rent that was always hungry and ate islands and fertile
fields in ravenous mouthfuls. She ran back to the end
of her plank.

" Have no fear," said the drunken man, blandly.
He stepped to the bare ice at her side. " A man can't
walk pigeon-toed always," he confided. " Besides, there 's
not a particle of danger. These fools are making a
mountain of a mole-hill."

Gordon came forward quickly.

" Run ahead, Miss Dale, I '11 tend to this fellow,"
he said.

He extended a firm hand. He meant to clutch the
man, shove him behind, and keep him there. But at
that moment the ice began to give under Lawson's
clumsy feet. A look of blank, piteous helplessness
came into his drunken eyes as he felt the treacherous
ice sinking beneath him. He tottered, then, with
frantic, unthinking haste, and sprang to the plank,
but it, too, began to sink. He laid desperate hold of
the girl.

" Save me ! " he shrieked.

Louise was conscious only of a quick, awful terror, a
dreadful horror of swaying and sinking, and then she
[172]

Channel Ice

was muffled against a rough coat, strong arms clasped
her tightly and bore her backward. Shivering, she hid
her face in the coat, clutching the lapels with nervous
strength.

" You II spoil your Sunday clothes," she moaned,
trying desperately to be calm and sensible.

And Gordon held her at last as he had dreamed in
his mad moments of holding her — close against his
heart — in the place he had not dared to tell her he
had already put her. His face was pressed against the
fair hair that he had longed with an indescribable long
ing to caress such a short time ago. His lips brushed
the soft strands with infinite tenderness. Now was his
dream come true. This day was his. No one might
take it from him. To-morrow, — but that was to
morrow. To-day was his. He would live it to the
end. Closer he held her, — the dear woman, — there
was no one else in all the world. When he released
her, she was confronting a man whose face was as white
as the ice around them.

" Is this — the last of us ? " she questioned, tremu
lously.

He flung his arm over her shoulders again. He did
not know exactly what he did. Men were coming for
ward rapidly, aware that a great tragedy had threatened,
had been averted. Dale was hastily retracing his steps.
Lawson had crawled to a place of safety on a forward
plank after having been flung out of the way by
[ 173 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

Gordon in his swift rush for Louise. He was grinning
foolishly, but was partially sobered by the shock.

" Back ! All of you ! " cried Gordon, imperiously.
He was very pale, but he had regained his self-control.
" Idiots ! Do you want another accident ? Back to
your places ! We 11 have to go around.""

The ice was broken in many spots. Louise had
really gone through, but so quick had been her rescue
that she escaped with wet feet only. By making a port
able bridge of two of the planks, they skirted the
yawning hole in safety. It was a more dangerous
undertaking now that two must stand on a plank at
the same time. Luckily, the greater number were ahead
when the accident occurred. It was not much past
noon, — but Gordon's day was ended. It was as if the
sun had gone down on it. He found no opportunity
to speak to Louise again, and the to-morrow, his to
morrow, had come. But the one day had been worth
while.

[174]

CHAPTER XV

THE GAME IS ON

CONTRARY to expectation, the case of the State
of South Dakota against Jesse Black was called
soon after the sitting of the court Monday after
noon. No testimony was introduced, however, until
the following day. Inch by inch, step by step, Gordon
fought for a fair jury through that tense afternoon.
Merciless in his shrewd examination, keen to detect
hesitancy, prejudices sought to be concealed he cleverly
and relentlessly unearthed. Chair after chair was
vacated, — only to be vacated again. It seemed there
was not a man in the county who had not heard
somewhat of this much-heralded crime — if crime it
were. And he who had heard was a prejudiced parti
san. How could it be otherwise where feeling ran so
high, — where honest men mostly felt resentment
against the man who dared to probe the wound with
out extracting the cause of it, and a hatred and fear
curiously intermingled with admiration of the outlaw
whose next move after obtaining his freedom might be
to cut out of the general herd, cows of their own
brands, — where tainted men, officers or cowmen,
awaited developments with a consuming interest that
[175]

Langford of the Three Bars

was not above manipulating the lines of justice for
their own selfish ends ? Yet, despite the obstacles in
the way, Gordon was determined to have an unpreju
diced jury in so far as it lay in human power to seat
such a one in the box. So he worked, and worked
hard.

This impanelling of the jury was not interesting to
the crowd. Many had no hint of its deeper meaning.
Others saw it in the light of child's play — a certain
braggadocio on the part of the young lawyer. They
wanted the actual show to begin — the examination
of witnesses. They came and went restlessly, impa
tiently waiting. Wiser heads than theirs knew that
the game was already on in deadly earnest. If these
had been lucky enough to get seats in the small and
overcrowded court-room, they remained glued to them.
They were waiting to see what manner of men would
be chosen — Jesse's peers — to pass judgment on his
acts and mete out for him just deserts — if they were
capable of a just verdict. The square-jawed, keen
witted, clean-cut captain of justice, who had forgotten
that the campaign had aged him irrevocably and that
some whitened hair would never grow brown again,
meant that they should be capable. The opposing
lawyers smiled tolerantly at the numerous challenges.
These smiles went far to convince many of the infalli
bility of their defence. Amused tolerance is a power
ful weapon on more fields than one where men war
[ 176 ]

The Game is On

with their wits. It is a wise man who cultivates the
art.

" We have chosen the right man," whispered Langford
to Mary. They had secured seats near the front and
were of those who knew the game was being played.

" He is great," returned Mary. If only her father
could be there to help ! The odds were fearful. Louise,
sitting at her table within the bar, with faith in this
man's destiny sufficient to remove mountains, smiled
down at her friends.

" Louise is an angel," said Mary, affectionately.

" Yes, she is," responded Langford, absently, for he
was not looking at the girl reporter, nor were his
thoughts on her side of the rail. He wished for the
sake of Williston's " little girl " that there were not so
much tobacco stench in the room. But this was a
vague and intangible wish. He wished with the whole
strength of his manhood — which was much — that this
man on trial might be made to pay the penalty of his
crime as a stepping-stone to paying the penalty of that
greater crime of which he firmly believed him guilty.
His own interest had become strangely secondary since
that hot July day when he had pledged himself to
vengeance. This falling off might have dated from a
certain September morning when he had lost himself —
for all time — to a girl with pain-pinched face and
fever-brightened eyes who wore a blue wrapper. His
would not be a personal triumph now, if he won.
12 [ 177 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

Court adjourned that evening with the jury-box
filled. The State's friends were feeling pretty good
about it. Langford made his way into the bar where
Gordon was standing apart. He passed an arm
affectionately over his friend's shoulder.

" You were inspired, Dick," he said. " Keep on the
same as you have begun and we shall have everything
our own way."

But the fire had died down in the young lawyer's
bearing.

" I 'm tired, Paul, dead tired," he said, wearily. " I
wish it were over."

" Come to supper — then you 11 feel better. You 're
tired out. It is a tough strain, is n't it ? " he said,
cheerily. He was not afraid. He knew the fire would
burn the brighter again when there was need of it
— in the morning.

They passed out of the bar together. At the hotel,
Mary and Louise were already seated at the table in
the dining-room where the little party usually sat
together when it was possible to do so. Judge Dale
had not yet arrived. The landlady was in a worried
dispute with Red Sanderson and a companion. The
men were evidently cronies. They had their eyes on
two of the three vacant places at the table.

" But I tell you these places are taken," persisted the
landlady, who served as head-waitress when such ser
vices were necessary, which was not often. Her patrons
[178]

The Game is On

usually took and held possession of things at their own
sweet will.

"You bet they are,11 chimed in Red, deliberately
pulling out a chair next to Louise, who shivered in
recognition.

" Please — " she began, in a small voice, but got no
farther. Something in his bold, admiring stare choked
her into silence.

" You 're a mighty pretty girl, if you are a trottin1
round with the Three Bars," he grinned. " Plenty time
to change your live — "

" Just move on, will you," said Gordon, curtly, com
ing up at that moment with Langford and shoving
him aside with unceremonious brevity. "This is my
place." He sat down quietly.

" You damned upstart," blustered Sanderson. " Want
a little pistol play, do you ? "

" Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! " implored the landlady.

"I'm not entering any objection," said Gordon,
coolly. " Just shoot — why don't you ? You have the
drop on me."

For a moment it looked as if Sanderson would take
him at his word and meet this taunt with instant death
for the sender of it, so black was his anger. But
encountering Langford's level gaze, he read something
therein, shrugged his shoulders, replaced his pistol, and
sauntered off with his companion just as Judge Dale
came upon the scene. Langford glanced quickly across
[ 179 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

the table at Mary. Her eyes were wide with startled
horror. She, too, had seen. Just above Red Sander
son's temple and extending from the forehead up into
the hair was an ugly scar — not like that left by a cut,
but as if the flesh might have been deeply bruised by
some blunt weapon.

" Mary ! How pale you are ! " cried Louise, in alarm.

" I 'm haunted by that man,1' she continued, biting
her lip to keep from crying out against the terrors of
this country. " He 's always showing up in unexpected
places. I shall die if I ever meet him alone."

"You need not be afraid," said Gordon, speaking
quietly from his place at her side. Louise flashed him
a swift, bewildering smile of gratitude. Then she
remembered she had a grievance against him and
she stiffened. But then the feel of his arms came to
her — the feel that she had scarcely been conscious of
yesterday when the dark water lay at her feet, — and
she blushed, and studied her plate diligently.

Under this cover, the young ranchman comforted
Mary, whom the others had temporarily forgotten, with
a long, caressing look from his handsome eyes that was
a pledge of tireless vigilance and an un forgetting
watchfulness of future protection.

[180]

CHAPTER XVI

THE TRIAL

THE next morning, every available seat was filled
early. People had blocked the rough plank
walks leading to the court-house long before
the doors were unlocked. The day promised to be
fine, and the many teams coming and going between
Kemah and the river to pick up the Velpen people
who had crossed the ice on foot gave to the little town
somewhat of the gala appearance of fair time. The
stately and blanketed Sioux from their temporary
camps on the flat were standing around, uncommunica
tive, waiting for proceedings to begin. Long before
the judicial party had arrived from the hotel, the
cramped room was crowded to its limits. There was
loud talking, laughing, and joking. Local wits amused
themselves and others by throwing quips at different
members of the county bar or their brethren from
across the river, as they walked to their places in
side the railings with the little mannerisms that
were peculiar to each. Some swaggered with their
importance ; others bore themselves with a ludicrous
and exaggerated dignity ; while a refreshing few, with

Langford of the Three Bars

absolute self-unconsciousness, sat down for the work in
hand. The witty cowboys, restrained by no bother
some feelings of delicacy, took off every one in running
asides that kept the room in uproar. Men who did
not chew tobacco ate peanuts.

The door in the rear of the bar opened and Judge
Dale entered. A comparative quiet fell upon the
people. He mounted to his high bench. The clerk
came in, then the court reporter. She tossed her note
books on the table, leisurely pulled off her gloves and
took her place, examining the ends of her pencils with
a critical eye. It would be a busy day for the "gal
reporter."" Then Langford came shoving his way down
the crowded aisle with a sad-faced, brown-eyed, young
woman in his wake, who yet held herself erect with a
proud little tilt to her chin. There was not an empty
seat outside the bar. Louise motioned, and he escorted
Mary to a place within and sat down beside her. The
jurymen were all in their chairs. Presently came in
Gordon with his quiet, self-reliant manner. Langford
had been right. The County Attorney was not tired
to-day.

Shortly after Gordon came Small — Small, the
dynamic, whose explosives had so often laid waste the
weak and abortive independent reasoning powers of
" Old Necessity " and his sort, and were the subject of
much satire and some admiration when the legal frater
nity talked "shop."" As he strode to his place, he
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The Trial

radiated bombs of just and telling wrath. He scin
tillated with aggressiveness. With him came Jesse
Black, easy and disdainful as of old. After them, a
small man came gliding in with as little commotion as
if he were sliding over the floor of a waxed dancing
hall in patent-leather pumps. He was an unassuming
little man with quick, cat-like movements which one
lost if one were not on the alert. When he had slipped
into a chair next his associate, Small, the inflammable
Small, towered above him head and shoulders.

"Every inch the criminal,'" audibly observed a
stranger, an Englishman over to invest in lands for
stocking a horse ranch. " Strange how they always
wear the imprint on their faces. No escaping it. I
fancy that is what the Scriptures meant by the mark
of Cain."

The remark was addressed to no one in particular,
but it reached the ears of Jim Munson, who was
standing near.

" Good Lord, man ! " he said, with a grin, " that 's
the plumb smartest criminal lawyer in the hull county.
That 's a fac\ Lord, Lord ! Him Jesse Black? "

His risibilities continued to thus get the better of
his gravity at frequent intervals during the day. He
never failed to snort aloud in pure delight whenever
he thought of it. What a tale for the boys when he
could get to them !

"These cattle men!" This time the tenderfoot
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Langford of the Three Bars

communicated with himself — he had a square chin
and a direct eye ; there were possibilities in him.
" Their perverted sense of the ridiculous is diabolical."

There were others who did not know the little man.
He hailed from the southern part of the State. But
Gordon knew him. He knew he was pitted against
one of the sharpest, shrewdest men of his day.

" Gentlemen, I think we are ready," said the Judge,
and the game was on again.

The State called Paul Langford, its principal witness
in default of Williston.

" Your name, place of residence, and business ? "
asked the counsel for the State.

" Paul Langford. I reside in Kemah County, and
I own and operate a cattle ranch."

After Langford had clearly described and identified
the animal in question, Gordon continued:

" Mr. Langford, when did you first miss this steer ? "

" On the fifteenth day of July last."

" How did you happen to miss this steer ? "

" My attention was called to the fact that an animal
answering this description and bearing my brand had
been seen under suspicious detention."

"Prior to information thus received, you were not
aware this creature had either strayed away or been
stolen?"

"I was not."

" Who gave you this information, Mr. Langford ? "
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The Trial

" George Williston of the Lazy S."

" Now you may tell the jury in what words Williston
told you about the steer he saw."

This, of course, was objected to and the objection
was sustained by the court, as Gordon knew it would
be. He only wanted the jury to remember that
Williston could have told a damaging story had he
been here, and also to remember how mysteriously this
same Williston had disappeared. He could not have
Williston or Williston's story, but he might keep an
impression ever before these twelve men that there
was a story — he knew it and they knew it, — a
story of which some crotchet of the law forbade the
telling.

"What did you do after your attention had been
called to the suspicious circumstances of the steer's
detention ? "

" I informed my boys of what I had heard, and sent
them out to look for the steer."

" That same day ? "

« Yes."

" Were they successful ? "

" No."

" Did this steer have a particular stamping ground ? "

« He did."

" Where was that ? "

" He always ranged with a bunch on what we call
the home range."

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Langford of the Three Bars

" Near the ranch house ? "

" Within half a mile."

u Did you look for him yourself?1'

« I did."

" He was not on this home grazing ground ? "

" He was not."

" Did you look elsewhere for him ? "

" We did."

"Where?"

" We rode the free ranges for several days — wherever
any of my cattle held out."

" How many days did you say you rode ? "

" Why, we continued to look sharp until my boy,
Munson, found him the day before the preliminary at
the Velpen stock-yards, on the point of being shipped
to Sioux City."

" You went to Velpen to identify this steer ? "

« I did."

" It was your steer ? "

"Yes."

" The same for which you had been searching so
long?"

" The very same."

" It was wearing your brand ? "

" It was not."

" What brand was it wearing ? "

" J R."

"Where was it?"

[186]

The Trial

" On the right hip."

"Where do you usually put your brand, Mr.
Langford?"

" On the right hip.'1

" Do you always brand your cattle there ? "

" Always."

"Do you know any J R outfit ?"

" I do not/1

Gordon nodded to Small. His examination had
been straightforward and to the point. He had drawn
alert and confident answers from his witness. Invol
untarily, he glanced at Louise, who had not seemed
to be working at all during this clean-cut dialogue.
She flashed a fleeting smile at him. He knew he was
out of sympathy with the great majority of the people
down there in front. He did not seem to care so much
now. A great medicine is a womanly and an under
standing smile. It flushed his face a bit, too.

Langford was most unsatisfactory under cross-
examination. He never contradicted himself, and was
a trifle contemptuous of any effort to tangle him up in
threads of his own weaving. The little man touched
Small on the arm and whispered to him.

"Mr. Langford," said Small, in a weighty voice,
"you travel a great deal, I believe?1'

" I do."

" For pleasure, maybe ? " with a mysterious inflection.

"Partly.11

Langford of the Three Bars

" Business as well ? "

" Business as well."

" Just prior to the arrest of the defendant,11 insinua
tingly, " you were away ? "

" How long prior do you mean ? "

" Say a week.""

"No."

"Two weeks?"

"Yes."

" You had been away some time ? "

"The better part of a year," confessed Langford,
with engaging candor.

"Yes. Now, Mr. Langford, I should like you to
tell me about how many cattle you range — in round
numbers."

" About five thousand head."

" Yes. Now, Mr. Langford, you who count your
cattle by the thousands, on your own sworn word you
have been out of the country a year. Don't you think
you are asking this jury to swallow a pretty big mouth
ful when you ask them to believe that you could so
unmistakably distinguish this one poor ornery steer,
who has so little to distinguish him from thousands
of others?"

"I have owned that spotted steer for years," said
Langford, composedly. " I have never sold him because
he was rather an odd creature and so cantankerous
that we dubbed him the Three Bars mascot."
[188]

The Trial

Gordon called Jim Munson.

" What is your name ? "

"Gosh!"

The question was unexpected. Was there any one
in the county who did not know Jim Munson ? And
Dick Gordon of all people ! Then he remembered that
the Boss had been asked the same question, so it must
be all right. But the ways of the court were surely
mysterious and ofttimes foolish.

"Jim Munson. Jim Munson 's my name — yep."

Gordon smiled.

" You need n't insist on it, Mr. Munson," he advised.
" We know it now. Where do you live ? "

" Hellity damn ! I live at the Three Bars ranch."

"In Kemah County?"

" It sure is."

" What is your business, Mr. Munson ? "

"Jim's shorter, Dick. Well, I work for the Boss,
Mr. Paul Langford."

" In what capacity ? "

"If you mean what do I do, why, I ride the range, I
punch cows, I always go on the round-up, I 'm a fair
bronco-breaker and I make up bunks and clean lamp
chimblies between times," he recited, glibly, bound to
be terse yet explicit, by advice of the Boss.

There was a gale of laughter in the bar. Even the
Court smiled.

"Oh, Jim! Jim! You have perjured yourself
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Langford of the Three Bars

already ! " murmured the Boss. " Clean lamp chimneys
— ye gods ! "

" Well, grin away ! " exploded Jim, his quick ire
rising. He had forgotten that Judge Dale's court was
not like Justice McAllister's. His fingers fairly itched
to draw a pistol and make the scoffers laugh and dance
to a little music of his own. But something in Gor
don's steady though seemingly careless gaze brought
him back to the seriousness of the scene they were
playing — without guns.

The examination proceeded. The air was getting
stifling. Windows were thrown open. Damp-looking
clouds had arisen from nowhere seemingly and spread
over the little prairie town, over the river and the
hills. It was very warm. Weather-seasoned inhabi
tants would have predicted storm had they not been
otherwise engaged. There was no breath of air stir
ring. Mrs. Higgins had said it was a sorry day for the
cattle when the river was running in December. Others
had said so and so believed, but people were not think
ing of the cattle now. One big-boned, long-horned
steer held the stage alone.

The State proceeded to Munson's identification of the
steer in question. After many and searching questions,
Gordon asked the witness :

" Jim, would you be willing to swear that the steer
you had held over at the stock-yards was the very same
steer that was the mascot of the Three Bars ranch ? "
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The Trial

This was Jim's big opportunity.

" Know Mag ? Swear to Mag ? Dick, I would know
Mag ef I met him on the golden streets of the eternal
city or ef my eyes was full o' soundin' cataracts ! Yep."

" I am not asking such an impossible feat, Mr. Mun-
son," cut in Gordon, nettled by the digressions of one
of his most important witnesses. " Answer briefly,
please. Would you be willing to swear?"

Jim was jerked back to the beaten track by the sharp
incision of Gordon's rebuke. No, this was indeed not
Jimmie Mac's court.

" Yep," he answered, shortly.

Billy Brown was called. After the preliminary ques
tions, Gordon said to him :

"Now, Mr. Brown, please tell the jury how you came
into possession of the steer."

" Well, I was shippin' a couple o' car loads to Sioux
City, and I was drivin' the bunch myself with a couple
o' hands when I meets up with Jesse Black here. He
was herdin' a likely little bunch o' a half dozen or so —
among 'em this spotted feller. He said he was n't ship-
pin' any this Fall, but these were for sale — part of a
lot he had bought from Yellow Wolf. So the upshot
of the matter was, I took 'em off his hands. I was just
lackin' 'bout that many to make a good, clean, two cars
full."

"You took a bill-of-sale for them, of course, Mr.
Brown?"

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Langford of the Three Bars

" I sure did. I 'm too old a hand to buy without a
bill-o'-sale."

The document was produced, marked as an exhibit,
and offered in evidence.

The hearing of testimony for the State went on all
through that day. It was late when the State rested
its case — so late that the defence would not be taken
up until the following day. It was all in — for weal or
for woe. In some way, all of the State's witnesses —
with the possible exception of Munson, who would argue
with the angel Gabriel at the last day and offer to give
him lessons in trumpet-blowing — had been imbued with
the earnest, honest, straightforward policy of the State's
counsel. Gordon's friends were hopeful. Langford
was jubilant, and he believed in the tolerable integrity
of Gordon's hard-won jury. Gordon's presentation of
the case thus far had made him friends ; fickle friends
maybe, who would turn when the wind turned —
to-morrow, — but true it was that when court ad
journed late in the afternoon, many who had jeered
at him as a visionary or an unwelcome meddler ac
knowledged to themselves that they might have erred
in their judgment.

As on the previous night, Gordon was tired. He
walked aimlessly to a window within the bar and leaned
against it, looking at the still, oppressive, cloudy
dampness outside, with the early December darkness
coming on apace. Lights were already twinkling in
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The Trial

kitchens where housewives were busy with the evening
meal.

"Well, Dick," said Langford, coming up cheery and
confident.

"Well, Paul, it's all in."

" And well in, old man."

"I — don't know, Paul. I hope so. That quiet lit
tle man from down country has not been much heard
from, you know. I am afraid, a moral uplift is n't my
stunt. I 'm tired ! I feel like a rag."

Langford was called away for a moment. When he
returned, Gordon was gone. He was not at supper.

" He went away on his horse," explained Louise, in
answer to Langford's unspoken question. " I saw him
ride into the country."

When the party separated for the night, Gordon had
not yet returned.

13

[193]

CHAPTER XVII

GORDON RIDES INTO THE COUNTRY

GORDON rode aimlessly out of the little town
with its twinkling lights. He did not care
where he went or what direction he pursued.
He wanted to ride off a strange, enervating dejection
that had laid hold of him the moment his last testi
mony had gone in. It all seemed so pitifully inade
quate — without Williston, — now that it was all in.
Why had he undertaken it ? It could only go for
another defeat counted against him. Though what
was one defeat more or less when there had been so
many ? It would be nothing new. Was he not pur
suing merely the old beaten trail ? Why should the
thought weigh so heavily now ? Can a man never
attain to that higher — or lower, which is it ? — alti
tude of strifeless, unregretful hardness ? Or was it, he
asked himself in savage contempt of his weakness, that,
despite all his generous and iron-clad resolutions, he
had secretly, unconsciously perhaps, cherished a sweet,
shy, little reservation in his inmost heart that maybe
— if he won out —

" You poor fool,1" he said, aloud, with bitter harsh
ness,

[191]

Gordon Rides into the Country

Suppose he did. A brave specimen, he, if he had
the shameful egoism to ask a girl — a girl like Louise
— a gentle, highbred, protected, cherished girl like
that — to share this new, bleak, rough life with him.
But the very sweetness of the thought of her doing
it made him gasp there in the darkness. How stifling
the air was ! He lifted his hat. It was hard to
breathe. It was like the still oppressiveness preceding
an electrical storm. His mare, unguided, had natu
rally chosen the main-travelled trail and kept it. She
followed the mood of her master and walked leisurely
along while the man wrestled with himself.

If he really possessed the hardihood to ask Louise to
do this for him, she would laugh at him. Stay ! That
was a lie — a black lie. She would not laugh — not
Louise. She was not of that sort. Rather would she
grieve over the inevitable sadness of it. If she laughed,
he could bear it better — he had good, stubborn, self-
respecting blood in him, — but she would not laugh.
And all the rest of his long life must be spent in
wishing — wishing — if it could have been ! But he
would never ask her to do it. Not even if the impos
sible came to pass. It was a hard country on women,
a hard, treeless, sun-seared, unkindly country. Men
could stand it — fight for its future ; but not women
like Louise. It made men as well as unmade them.
And after all it did not prove to be the undoing of
men so much as it developed in them the perhaps
[ 195 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

hitherto hidden fact that they were already wanting.
These latent, constitutional weaknesses thus laid bare,
the bad must for a while prevail — bad is so much
noisier than good. But this big, new country with its
infinite possibilities — give it time — it would form
men out of raw material and make over men mis
takenly made when that was possible, or else show
the dividing line so clearly that the goats might not
herd with the sheep. Some day, it would be fit for
women — like Louise. Not now. Much labor and
sorrow must be lived through ; there must be many mis
takes, many experiments tried, there must be much
sacrifice and much refining, and many must fall and
lose in the race before its big destiny be worked out
and it be fit for women — like Louise. Down in the
southern part of the State, and belonging to it, a
certain big barred building sheltered many women,
when the sun of the treeless prairies and the gazing
into the lonesome distances surrounding their home
steads seeped into their brains and stayed there so that
they knew not what they did. There were trees there
and fountains and restful blue-grass in season, and
flowers, flowers, flowers — but these came too late for
most of the women.

Louise was not of that sort. The roughness and the

loneliness would simply wear her away and she would

die — smiling to the last. What leering fate had led

her hither to show him what he had missed by choosing

[196]

Gordon Rides into the Country

as he had chosen to throw himself into the thankless
task of preparing a new country for — a future genera
tion ? This accomplished, she would flit lightly away
and never know the misery she had left behind or
the flavor and zest she had filched from the work
of one man, at least, who had entered upon it with
lofty ambition, high hopes, and immutable purpose.
What then would he have wished ? That she had not
come at all?

He smiled. If Louise could have seen that smile, or
the almost dewy softness which stole into his eyes —
the eyes that were too keen for everyday living ! That
he loved her was the one thing in life worth while.
Then why rail at fate? If he had not chosen as he
had, he should never have known Louise. He must
have gone through life without that dear, exquisite,
solemn sense of her — in his arms — those arms to which
it had been given to draw her back from a cruel death.
That fulfilment was his for all time. How sweet she
was ! He seemed to feel again the soft pressure of
her clinging arms, — remembering how his lips had
brushed her fair hair. If it had been Langford, now,
who was guilty of so ridiculous a sentimentalism — the
bold, impetuous, young ranchman — he smiled at him
self whimsically. Then he pulled himself together.
He did not think the jury could believe the story
Jesse Black would trump up, no matter how plausible
it was made to sound. He felt more like himself, —
[197]

Langford of the Three Bars

in better condition to meet those few but stanch friends
of his from whom he had so summarily run away, —
stronger to meet — Louise. Man-like, now that he was
himself again, he must know the time. He struck a
match.

" Why, Lena, old girl, we 've been taking our time,
haven't we? They are likely through supper, but
maybe I can wheedle a doughnut out of the cook."

The match burned out. Not until he had tossed
it away did it come to him that they were no longer
on the main trail.

"Now, that's funny, old girl," he scolded. "What
made you be so unreasonable ? Well, we started with
our noses westward, so you must have wandered into
the old Lazy S branch trail. Though, to be sure, it
has been such a deuce of a while since we travelled it
that I wonder at you, Lena. Well, we '11 just jog back.
What 's the matter now, silly ? "

His mare had shied. He turned her nose resolutely,
domineeringly, back toward the spot objected to.

"I can't see what you're scared at, but we'll just
investigate and show you how foolish a thing is
feminine squeamishness."

A shadowy form arose out of the darkness. It
approached.

"Is that you, Dick?"

Gordon was not a superstitious man, yet he felt
suddenly cold to the crown of his head. It was not
[ 198 ]

Gordon Rides into the Country

so dark as it might have been. There would have been
a moon had it not been cloudy. Dimly, he realized
that the man had arisen from the ruins of what must
have been the old Williston homestead. The outlines
of the stone stoop were vaguely visible in the half light.
The solitary figure had been crouched there, brooding.

" I 'm flesh and blood, Dick, never fear," said the
man in a mournful voice. "I'm hungry enough to
vouch for that. You needn't be afraid. I 'm anything
but a spirit."

" Williston ! " The astonished word burst from
Gordon's lips. " Williston ! Is it really you ? "

" None other, my dear Gordon ! Sorry I startled
you. I saw your light and heard your voice speaking
to your horse, and as you were the very man I was on
the point of seeking, I just naturally came forward,
forgetting that my friends would very likely look upon
me in the light of a ghost."

" Williston ! My dear fellow ! " repeated Gordon
again. " It is too good to be true," he cried, leaping
from his mare and extending both hands cordially.
" Shake, old man ! My, the feel of you is — bully.
You are flesh and blood all right. You always did
have a good, honest shake for a fellow. I don't know,
though. Seems to me you have been kind o' running
to skin and bones since I last saw you. Grip's good,
but bony. You 're thinner than ever, are n't you ? "

All this time he was shaking Williston's hands
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Langford of the Three Bars

heartily. He never thought of asking him where he
had been. For weary months he had longed for this
man to come back. He had come back. That was
enough for the present. He had always felt genu
inely friendly toward the unfortunate scholar and his
daughter.

" That 's natural, is n't it ? Besides, they forgot my
rations sometimes."

" Who, Williston ? " asked Gordon, the real signifi
cance of the man's return taking quick hold of him.

" I think you know, Gordon,11 said the older man,
quietly. "It is a long story. I was coming to you.
I will tell you everything. Shall I begin now ? "

" Are you in any danger of pursuit ? " asked Gordon,
suddenly bethinking himself.

" I think not. I killed my jailer, the half-breed,
Nightbird."

" You did well. So did Mary."

" What do you mean ? "

" Did n't you know that Mary shot and killed one
of the desperadoes that night ? At least, we have
every reason to think it was Mary. By the way, you
have not asked after her."

The man's head drooped. He did not answer for a
long time. When he raised his head, his face, though
showing indistinctly, was hard and drawn. He spoke
with little emotion as a man who had sounded the
gamut of despair and was now far spent.
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Gordon Rides into the Country

" What was the use ? I saw her fall, Gordon. She
stood with me to the end. She was a brave little girl.
She never once faltered. Dick," he said, his voice
changing suddenly, and laying hot, feverish hands on
the young man's shoulders, " we '11 hang them — you
and I — we 11 hang them every one, — the devils who
look like men, but who strike at women. We 11 hang
them, I say — you and I. I 've got the evidence.*"

" Is it possible they did n't tell you ? " cried Gordon,
aghast at the amazing cruelty of it.

" Tell me anything ? Not they. She was such a
good girl, Dick. There never was a better. She never
complained. She never got her screens, poor girl. I
wish she could have had her screens before they
murdered her. Where did you lay her, Dick ? "

" Mr. Williston," said Dick, taking firm hold of the
man's burning hands and speaking with soothing calm
ness, " forgive me for not telling you at once. I
thought you knew. I never dreamed that you might
have been thinking all the while that Mary was dead.
She is alive and well and with friends. She only
fainted that night. Come, brace up ! Why, man
alive, are n't you glad ? Well, then, don't go to pieces
like a child. Come, brace up, I tell you !w

" You — you — would n't lie to me, would you,
Dick ? "

u As God is my witness, Mary is alive and in Kemah
this minute — unless an earthquake has swallowed the
[201 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

hotel during my absence. I saw her less than two
hours ago."

" Give me a minute, my dear fellow, will you ? I —
I — 11

He walked blindly away a few steps and sat down
once more on the ruins of his homestead. Gordon
waited. The man sat still — his head buried in his
hands. Gordon approached, leading his mare, and sat
down beside him.

" Now tell me," he said, with simple directness.

An hour later, the two men separated at the door of
the Whites' claim shanty.

" Lie low here until I send for you,11 was Gordon's
parting word.

[202]

CHAPTER XVIII

FIRE!

THE wind arose along toward midnight — the
wind that many a hardened inhabitant would
have foretold hours before had he been master
of his time and thoughts. As a rule, no signal service
was needed in the cow country. Men who practically
lived in the open had a natural right to claim some
close acquaintance with the portents of approaching
changes. But it would have been well had some storm
flag waved over the little town that day. For the
wind that came slipping up in the night, first in little
sighing whiffs and skirmishes, gradually growing more
impatient, more domineering, more utterly contemp
tuous, haughty, and hungry, sweeping down from its
northwest camping grounds, carried a deadly menace
in its yet warm breath to the helpless and unprotected
cattle huddled together in startled terror or already
beginning their migration by intuition, running with
the wind.

It rattled loose window-casings in the hotel, so that

people turned uneasily in their beds. It sent strange

creatures of the imagination to prowl about. Cowmen

thought of the depleted herds when the riders should

[203]

Langford of the Three Bars

come in off the free ranges in the Spring should that
moaning wind mean a real northwester.

Louise was awakened by a sudden shriek of wind
that swept through the slight aperture left by the
raised window and sent something crashing to the floor.
She lay for a moment drowsily wondering what had
fallen. Was it anything that could be broken ? She
heard the steady push of the wind against the frail
frame building, and knew she ought to compel herself
sufficiently to be aroused to close the window. But
she was very sleepy. The crash had not awakened
Mary. She was breathing quietly and deeply. But
she would be amenable to a touch — just a light one
— and she did not mind doing things. How mean,
though, to administer it in such a cause. She could
not do it. The dilapidated green blind was flapping
dismally. What time was it? Maybe it was nearly
morning, and then the wind would probably go down.
That would save her from getting up. She snuggled
under the covers and prepared to slip deliciously off
into slumber again.

But she could n't go to sleep after all. A haunting
suspicion preyed on her waking faculties that the crash
might have been the water pitcher. She had been
asleep and could not gauge the shock of the fall. It
had seemed terrific, but what awakens one from sleep
is always abnormal to one's startled and unremember-
ing consciousness. Still, it might have been the pitcher.
[204]

Fire!

She cherished no fond delusion as to the impenetra
bility of the warped cottonwood flooring. Water
might even then be trickling through to the room
below. She found herself wondering where the bed
stood, and that thought brought her sitting up in a
hurry only to remember that she was over the musty
sitting-room with its impossible carpet. She would
be glad to see it soaked — it might put a little color
into it, temporarily at least, and lay the dust of ages.
But, sitting up, she felt herself enveloped in a gale
of wind that played over the bed, and so wisely con
cluded that if she wished to see this court through
without the risk of grippe or pneumonia complica
tions, she had better close that window. So she
slipped cautiously out of bed, nervously apprehensive
of plunging her feet into a pool of water. It had
not been the pitcher after all. Even after the window
was closed, there seemed to be much air in the room.
The blind still flapped, though at longer intervals.
If it really turned cold, how were they to live in that
barn-like room, she and Mary ? She thought of the
campers out on the flat and shivered. She looked out
of the window musingly a moment. It was dark. She
wondered if Gordon had come home. Of course he was
home. It must be nearly morning. Her feet were
getting cold, so she crept back into bed. The next
thing of which she was conscious, Mary was shaking
her excitedly.

[205 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

" What is it ? " she asked, sleepily.
" Louise ! There 's a fire somewhere ! Listen ! "
Some one rushed quickly through the hall ; others
followed, knocking against the walls in the darkness.
Then the awful, heart-clutching clang of a bell rang
out — near, insistent, metallic. It was the meeting
house bell. There was no other in the town. The
girls sprang to the floor. The thought had found
swift lodgment in the mind of each that the hotel
was on fire, and in that moment Louise thought of the
poisoned meat that had once been served to some arch
enemies of the gang whose chief was now on trial for
his liberty. So quickly does the brain work under stress
of great crises, that, even before she had her shoes and
stockings on, she found herself wondering who was the
marked victim this time. Not Williston, — he was
dead. Not Gordon, — he slept in his own room back
of the office. Not Langford, — he was bunking with
his friend in that same room. Jim Munson ? Or was
the Judge the proscribed one ? He was not a corrupt
judge. He could not be bought. It might be he.
Mary had gone to the window.

" Louise ! " she gasped. " The court-house ! "
True. The cloudy sky was reddened above the poor
little temple of justice where for days and weeks the tide
of human interest of a big part of a big State — ay,
a big part of all the northwest country, maybe — had
been steadily setting in and had reached its culmination
[206]

Fire!

only yesterday, when a gray-eyed, drooping-shouldered,
firm-jawed young man had at last faced quietly in the
bar of his court the defier of the cow country. To
night, it would dance its little measure, recite its few
lines on its little stage of popularity before an audience
frenzied with appreciation and interest ; to-morrow, it
would be a heap of ashes, its scene played out.

" My note books ! " cried Louise, in a flash of com
prehension. She dressed hastily. Shirt-waist was too
intricate, so she threw on a gay Japanese kimono ; her
jacket and walking-skirt concealed the limitations of
her attire.

" What are you going to do ? " asked Mary, also put
ting on clothes which were easy of adjustment. She had
never gone to fires in the old days before she had come
to South Dakota ; but if Louise went — gentle, high
bred Louise — why, she would go too, that was all
there was about it. She had constituted herself Louise's
guardian in this rough life that must be so alien to the
Eastern girl. Louise had been very good to her.
Louise's startled cry about her note books carried little
understanding to her. She was not used to court and
its ways.

They hastened out into the hallway and down the
stairs. They saw no one whom they knew, though
men were still dodging out from unexpected places and
hurrying down the street. It seemed impossible that
the inconveniently built, diminutive prairie hotel could
[ 207 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

accommodate so many people. Louise found herself
wondering where they had been packed away. The
men, carelessly dressed as they were, their hair shaggy
and unkempt, always with pistols in belt or hip-pocket
or hand, made her shiver with dread. They looked so
wild and weird and fierce in the dimly lighted hall.
She clutched Mary's arm nervously, but no thought of
returning entered her mind. Probably the Judge was
already on the court-house grounds. He would want
to save some valuable books he had been reading in his
official quarters. So they went out into the bleak and
windy night. They were immediately enveloped in a
wild gust that nearly swept them off their feet as it
came tearing down the street. They clung together
for a moment.

" It 11 burn like hell in this wind ! " some one cried,
as a bunch of men hurried past them. The words
were literally whipped out of his mouth. " Won't
save a thing."

Flames were bursting out of the front windows
upstairs. The sky was all alight. Sparks were tossed
madly southward by the wind. There was grave danger
for buildings other than the one already doomed. The
roar of the wind and the flames was well-nigh deafening.
The back windows and stairs seemed clear.

" Hurry, Mary, hurry ! " cried Louise, above the
roar, and pressed forward, stumbling and gasping for
the breath that the wild wind coveted. It was not far
[208]

Fire!

they had to go. There was a jam of men in the yard.
More were coming up. But there was nothing to do.
Men shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders
and watched the progress of the inevitable with the
placidity engendered of the potent 4< It can't be helped."
But some things might have been saved that were not
saved had the first on the grounds not rested so securely
on that quieting inevitability. As the girls came
within the crowded circle of light, they overheard some
thing of a gallant attempt on the part of somebody to
save the county records — they did not hear whether
or no the attempt had been successful. They made
their way to the rear. It was still dark.

" Louise ! What are you going to do ? " cried Mary,
in consternation. There were few people on this side.
Louise put her hand deliberately to the door-knob.
It gave to her pressure — the door swung open. Some
one stumbled out blindly and leaned against the wall
for a moment, his hands over his eyes.

"I can't do it," he said, aloud, "I can't reach the
vaults."

Louise slipped past him and was within the door
way, closely followed by the frantic Mary.

The man cried out sharply, and stretched out a
detaining hand. " Are you crazy ? Come back ! "

" Mr. Gordon ! " cried Louise, with a little sob of
relief, " is it really you ? Let me go — quick — my
note books ! "

1* [ 209 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

A thick cloud of smoke at that moment came rolling
down the back stairs. It enveloped them. It went
down their throats and made them cough. The man,
throwing an arm over the shoulders of the slender girl
who had started up after the first shock of the smoke
had passed away, pushed her gently but firmly outside.

" Don't let her come, Mary," he called back, clearly.
"I'll get the note books — if I can." Then he was
gone — up the smoke- wreathed stairway.

Outside, the girls waited. It seemed hours. The
wind, howling around the corners, whipped their skirts.
There was a colder edge to it. Fire at last broke out
of the back windows simultaneously with the sound of
breaking glass, and huge billows of released black smoke
surged out from the new outlet. Louise started for
ward. She never knew afterward just what she meant
to do, but she sprang away from Mary's encircling arm
and ran up the little flight of steps leading to the door
from which she had been so unceremoniously thrust.
Afterward, when they told her, she realized what her
impulsive action meant, but now she did not think.
She was only conscious of some wild, vague impulse to
fly to the help of the man who would even now be safe
in blessed outdoors had it not been for her and her
foolish woman's whim. She had sent him to his death.
What were those wretched note books — what was
anything at all in comparison to his life! So she
stumbled blindly up the steps. The wind had slammed
[ 310 ]

Fire!

the door shut. It was a cruel obstacle to keep her
back. She wrenched it open. The clouds of smoke
that met her, rolling out of their imprisonment like
pent-up steam, choked her, blinded her, beat her
back. She strove impotently against it. She tried to
fight it off with her hands — those little intensely
feminine hands whose fortune Gordon longed to take
upon himself forever and forever. They were so small
and weak to fend for themselves. But small as they
were, it was a good thing they did that night. Now
Mary had firm hold of her and would not let her go.
She struggled desperately and tried to push her off,
but vainly, for Mary had twice her strength.

" Mary, I shall never forgive you — "

She did not finish her sentence, for at that moment
Gordon staggered out into the air. He sat down on
the bottom step as if he were drunk, but little darts
of flame colored the surging smoke here and there in
weird splotches and, suddenly calm now that there was
something to do, Mary and Louise led him away from
the doomed building where the keen wind soon blew
the choking smoke from his eyes and throat.

" I Ve swallowed a ton," he said, recovering himself
quickly. " I could n't get them, Louise." He did not
know he called her so.

" Oh, what does it matter ? " cried Louise, earnestly.
" Only forgive me for sending you."

" As I remember it, I sent myself," said Gordon,
[ 211 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

with a humorous smile, "and, I am afraid, tumbled
one little girl rather unceremoniously down the stairs.
Did I hurt you?"" There was a caressing cadence in
the question that he could not for the life of him keep
out of his voice.

" I did not even know I tumbled. How did you get
back ? " said Louise, tremulously.

"Who opened the door?" counter-questioned Gor
don, remembering. " The wind must have blown
it shut. I was blinded — I could n't find it — I
could n't breathe. I did n't have sense enough to
know it was shut, but I could n't have helped myself
anyway. I groped for it as long as I could without
breathing. Then I guess I must have gone off a little,
for I was sprawling on the floor of the lower hall when
I felt a breath of air playing over me. Somebody
must have opened the door — because I am pretty sure
I had fainted or done some foolish thing.'1

Louise was silent. She was thankful — thankful !
God had been very good to her. It had been given to
her to do this thing. She had not meant to do it — she
had not known what she did ; enough that it was done.

" It was Louise," spoke up Mary, " and I — tried to
hold her back ! " So she accused herself.

" But I did n't do it on purpose," said Louise, with
shining eyes. "I — I — "

"Yes, you — " prompted Gordon, looking at her
with tender intentness.

Fire!

"I guess I was trying to come after you,1' she
confessed. " It was very — foolish."

The rear grounds were rapidly filling up. Like
children following a band-wagon, the crowd surged
toward the new excitement of the discovered extension
of the fire. Gordon drew a long breath.

" I thank God for your — foolishness," he said,
simply, smiling the smile his friends loved him for.

[213]

CHAPTER XIX

AN UNCONVENTIONAL TEA PARTY

AS the flames broke through the roof, Langford
came rushing up where the group stood a little
apart from the press.

" Dick ! I have been looking for you everywhere,"
he cried, hoarsely.

" What "s the trouble, old man ? " asked Gordon,
quietly.

"I have something to tell you," said Langford, in
a low voice. " Come quick — let 's go back to your
rooms. Why, girls — "

"We will go, too," said Mary, with quiet decision.
She had caught a glimpse of Red Sanderson's face
through the crowd, and she thought he had leered
at her. She had been haunted by the vague feeling
that she must have known the man who had attempted
to carry her off — that dreadful night ; but she had
never been able to concentrate the abstract, fleeting im
pressions into comprehensive substance — never until
she had seen that scar and glancing away in terror saw
that Langford, too, had seen ; but she was not brave
enough to lose herself and Louise in the crowd where
that man was. She could not. He had leered at
[214]

An Unconventional Tea Party

Louise, too, last night at supper. They could not
ask the protection of Gordon and Langford back to
the hotel then, when Langford's handsome, tanned face
was white with the weight of what he had to tell.

" It will be best," he agreed, unexpectedly. " Come
— we must hurry! "

It was Williston^s " little girl " whom he took under
his personal protection, diving up the street in the
teeth of the gale which blew colder every moment,
with a force and strength that kept Mary half the
time off her feet. A gentler knight was Gordon —
though as manly. All was dark around the premises.
There was no one lurking near. Everybody was danc
ing attendance on the court-house holocaust. Gordon
felt for his keys.

" How good it is to get out of the wind," whispered
Louise. This proceeding smacked so much of the mys
terious that whispering followed as a natural sequence.

They stepped within. It was inky black.

" Lock the door," said Langford, in a low voice.

Gordon complied, surprised, but asking no question.
He knew his friend, and had faith in his judgment.
Then he lighted a lamp that stood on his desk.

" Why did you do that ? " asked Louise, gravely.

"What?"

" Lock the door."

" I don't know," he answered, honestly. " I did n't
think you would notice the click. Ask Paul."
[215]

Langford of the Three Bars

" I '11 explain in a minute," said Langford. He
stepped to the windows and drew the blinds closely.
" Now that I have you safe," he said, lightly, " 1 11
confess I had an old woman's scare. It came to me
that as long as you are not, strictly speaking, on kind
and loving terms with — every one west of the river, —
and this being such an all-round nasty night anyway,
why, I'd just spirit you home and give the charged
atmosphere a chance of clearing a little."

Gordon looked at him steadily a moment. His face
did not pale. Yet he knew that Langford had heard
— or suspected — more than he intended to tell —
then. It was good to see him shrug his shoulders in
unconcern for the sake of the two white-faced girls who
sat there in his stiff office chairs.

" You are an old duffer, Paul," he said, in pre
tended annoyance. "You treat me like a child. I
won't stand it always. You 11 see. Some day 1 11
rebel — and — then — "

"Meanwhile, 111 just trot these ladies back to the
hotel," said Langford. " But you must promise to
keep your head inside. We're fixtures until we have
that promise."

"What, lock me up and run off with — all the
ladies ! I guess not ! Why did n't we round up that
way, I 'd like to know ? This is n't Utah, Paul. You
can't have both."

Paul meant for him to lie low, then. He was also
[216]

An Unconventional Tea Party

in a hurry to get the girls away. Evidently the
danger lay here. There was a tightening of the firm
mouth and an ominous contraction of the pupils of
the eyes. He stirred the fire, then jammed a huge,
knotted stick into the sheet-iron stove. It seemed
as if everybody had sheet-iron stoves in this country.
The log caught with a pleasant roar as the draught
sent flames leaping up the chimney. But Paul made
no movement to go. Then he, Gordon, had not under
stood his friend. Maybe the menace was not here,
but outside. If so, he must contrive to keep his guests
interested here. He would leave the lead to Paul.
Paul knew. He went back to his living-room and
returned, bringing two heavy buggy robes.

" You will find my bachelor way of living very prim
itive,'" he said, with his engaging smile. He arranged
the robes over two of the chairs and pushed them close
up to the stove. " I have n't an easy chair in the house
— prove it by Paul, here. Have n't time to rock, and
can't afford to run the risk of cultivating slothful
habits. Take these, do,'"1 he urged, " and remove your
coats."

"Thank you — you are very kind," said Louise.
" No, I won't take off my jacket," a spot of color stain
ing her cheek when she thought of her gay kimono.
Involuntarily, she felt of her throat to make sure the
muffler had not blown awry. " We shall be going soon,
shan't we, Mr. Langford ? If Mr. Gordon is in any
[ 217 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

danger, you must stay with him and let us go alone.
It is not far."

" Surely," said Mary, with a big sinking of the heart,
but meaning what she said.

" Not at all," said Gordon, decidedly. " It "s just
his womanish way of bossing me. I '11 rebel some day.
Just wait ! But before you go, I '11 make tea. You
must have gotten chilled through."

He would keep them here a while and then let them
go — with Langford. The thought made him feel
cheap and cowardly and sneaking. Far rather would
he step out boldly and take his chances. But if there
was to be any shooting, it must be where Louise, — and
Mary, too — was not. He believed Paul, in his zeal,
had exaggerated evil omens, but there was Louise in
his bachelor rooms — where he had never thought to
see her ; there with her cheeks flushed with the prox
imity to the stove — his stove — her fair hair wind
blown. No breath of evil thing must assail her that
night — that night, when she had glorified his lonely
habitation — even though'he himself must slink into a
corner like a cowardly cur. A strange elation took
possession of him. She was here. He thought of last
night and seemed to walk on air. If he won out,
maybe — but, fool that he was ! what was there in this
rough land for a girl like — Louise ?

" Oh, no, that will be too much trouble," gasped
Louise, in some alarm and thinking of Aunt Helen.
[218]

An Unconventional Tea Party

" Thanks, old man, we '11 stay,11 spoke up Langford,
cheerfully. " He makes excellent tea — really. I Ve
tried it before. You will never regret staying.1'

Silently he watched his friend in the inner room
bring out a battered tea-kettle, fill it with a steady
hand and put it on the stove in the office, coming and
going carelessly, seemingly conscious of nothing in the
world but the comfort of his unexpected guests.

True to her sex, Louise was curiously interested in
the housekeeping arrangements of a genuine bachelor
establishment. Woman-like, she saw many things in
the short time she was there — but nothing that dimin
ished her respect for Richard Gordon. The bed in the
inner chamber where both men slept was disarranged
but clean. Wearing apparel was strewn over chairs
and tables. There was a litter of magazines on the
floor. She laid them up against Langford ; she did
not think Gordon had the time or inclination to culti
vate the magazine habit. She did not know to whose
weakness to ascribe the tobacco pouch and brier-wood
pipe placed invitingly by the side of a pair of gay,
elaborately bead-embroidered moccasons, cosily stowed
away under the head of the bed ; but she was rather
inclined to lay these, too, to Langford's charge. The
howling tempest outside only served to enhance the
cosiness of the rumbling fire and the closely drawn
blinds.

But tea was never served in those bachelor rooms
[219]

Langford of the Three Bars

that night — neither that night nor ever again. It
was a little dream that went up in flame with the
walls that harbored it. Who first became conscious
that the tang of smoke was gradually filling their nos
trils, it was hard to tell. They were not far behind
each other in that consciousness. It was Langford
who discovered that the trouble was at the rear, where
the wind would soon have the whole building fanned
into flames. Gordon unlocked the door quietly. He
said nothing. But Paul, springing in front of him,
himself threw it open. It was no new dodge, this burn
ing a man out to shoot him as one would drown out
a gopher for the killing. He need not have been
afraid. The alarm had spread. The street in front
was rapidly filling. One would hardly have dared to
shoot — then — if one had meant to. And he did not
know. He only knew that deviltry had been in the air
for Gordon that night. He had suspected more than
he had overheard, but it had been in the air.

Gordon saw the action and understood it. He
never forgot it. He said nothing, but gave his friend an
illuminating smile that Langford understood. Neither
ever spoke of it, neither ever forgot it. How tightly
can quick impulses bind — forever.

Outside, they encountered the Judge in search of his
delinquent charges.

"I'm sorry, Dick," he said. "Dead loss, my boy.
This beastly wind is your undoing."

An Unconventional Tea Party

"I'm not worrying, Judge,11 responded Gordon,
grimly. "I intend for some one else to do that."

" Hellity damn, Dick, hellity damn ! " exploded Jim
Munson in his ear. The words came whistling through
his lips, caught and whirled backward by the play
of the storm. The cold was getting bitter, and a
fine, cutting snow was at last driving before the
wind.

Gordon, with a set face, plunged back into the room
— already fire-licked. Langford and Munson followed.
There sat the little tea-service staring at them with
dumb pathos. The three succeeded in rolling the safe
with all its precious documents arranged within, out
into the street. Nothing else mattered much — to
Gordon. But other things were saved, and Jim gal
lantly tossed out everything he could lay his hands
on before Gordon ordered everybody out for good and
all. It was no longer safe to be within. Gordon was
the last one out. He carried a battered little tea
kettle in his hand. He looked at it in a whimsical
surprise as if he had not known until then that he had
it in his hand. Obeying a sudden impulse, he held it
out to Louise.

"Please take care of — my poor little dream," he
whispered with a strange, intent look.

Before she could comprehend the significance or give
answer, the Judge had faced about. He bore the girls
back to the hotel, scolding helplessly all the way as
[221 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

they scudded with the wind. But Louise held the
little tin kettle firmly.

Men knew of Richard Gordon that night that he was
a marked man. The secret workings of a secret clan
had him on their proscription list. Some one had
at last found this unwearied and doggedly persistent
young fellow in the way. In the way, he was a menace,
a danger. He must be removed from out the way. He
could not be bought from it — he should be warned
from it. So now his home — his work room and his
rest room, the first by many hours daily the more in
use, with all its furnishings of bachelor plainness and
utility, that yet had held a curious charm for some
men, friends and cronies like Langford — was burning
that he might be warned. Could any one say, " Jesse
Black has done this thing " ? Would he not bring
down proof of guilt by a retaliation struck too soon ?
It would seem as if he were anticipating an unfavorable
verdict. So men reasoned. And even then they did
not arise to stamp out the evil that had endured and
hugged itself and spit out corruption in the cattle
country. That was reserved for — another.

They talked of a match thrown down at the court
house by a tramp, likely, — when it was past midnight,
when the fire broke out with the wind a piercing
gale, and when no vagrant but had long since left
such cold comfort and had slept these many weeks
in sunnier climes. Some argued that the windows of

An Unconventional Tea Party

the court-room might have been left open and the
stove blown down by the wind tearing through, or
the stove door might have blown open and remains of
the fire been blown out, or the pipe might have fallen
down. But it was a little odd that the same people
said Dick Gordon's office likely caught fire from flying
sparks. Dick's office was two blocks to westward of
the court-house and it would have been a brave spark
and a lively one that could have made headway
against that northwester.

CHAPTER XX

THE ESCAPE

THE little county seat awoke in the morning to
a strange sight. The storm had not abated.
The wind was still blowing at blizzard rate off
the northwest hills, and fine, icy snow was swirling so
thickly through the cold air that vision was obstructed.
Buildings were distinguishable only as shadows showing
faintly through a heavy white veil. The thermometer
had gone many degrees below the zero mark. It was
steadily growing colder. The older inhabitants said it
would surely break the record the coming night.

An immense fire had been built in the sitting-room.
Thither Mary and Louise repaired. Here they were
joined by Dale, Langford, and Gordon.

" You should be out at the ranch looking after your
poor cattle, Mr. Langford," said Mary, smilingly. She
could be light-hearted now, — since a little secret had
been whispered to her last night at a tea party where no
tea had been drunk. Langford had gravitated toward
her as naturally as steel to a magnet. He shrugged
his big shoulders and laughed a little.

" The Scribe will do everything that can be done.
Honest, now, did you think this trial could be pulled
off without me?"

The Escape

" But there can be no trial to-day."

"Why not?"

" Did I dream the court-house burned last night ? "

" If you did, we are all dreamers alike."

" Then how can you hold court ? "

" We have gone back to the time when Church and
State were one and inseparable, and court convenes at
ten o'clock sharp in the meeting-house," he said.

Louise was looking white and miserable.

" You are not contemplating running away, are
you ? " asked Gordon. " This is unusual weather —
really."

She looked at him with a pitiful smile.

" I should like to be strong and brave and enduring
and capable — like Mary. You don't believe it, do
you ? It "s true, though. But I can't. I 'm weak and
homesick and cold. I ought not to have come. I am
not the kind. You said it, too, you know. I am
going home just as soon as this court is over. I
mean it."

There was no mistaking that. Gordon bowed his
head. His face was white. It had come sooner than
he had thought.

All the records of the work of yesterday had been
burned. There was nothing to do but begin at the
beginning again. It was discouraging, uninteresting.
But it had to be done. Dale refused positively to
adjourn. The jurymen were all here. So the little
15 [ 225 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

frame church was bargained for. If the fire-bugs had
thought to postpone events — to gain time — by last
nights work, they would find themselves very greatly
mistaken. The church was long and narrow like a
country schoolhouse, and rather roomy considering the
size of the town. It had precise windows — also like a
country schoolhouse, — four on the west side, through
which the fine snow was drifting, four opposite. The
storm kept few at home with the exception of the
people from across the river. There were enough stay
ing in the town to fill the room to its utmost limits.
Standing room was at a premium. The entry was
crowded. Men not able to get in ploughed back
through the cutting wind and snow only to return
presently to see if the situation had changed any
during their brief absence. So all the work of yester
day was gone over again.

Mingled with the howl and bluster of the wind, and
the swirl and swish of the snow drifting outside during
the small hours of last night, sometimes had been dis
tinguishable the solemn sound of heavy steps running
— likened somewhat to the tramp of troops marching
on the double-quick. To some to whom this sound
was borne its meaning was clear, but others wondered,
until daylight made it clear to all. The sorry day
predicted for the cattle had come. The town was
full of cattle. They hugged the south side of the
buildings — standing in stolid patience with drooping
[226]

The Escape

heads. Never a structure in the whole town — house
or store or barn or saloon — but was wind-break for
some forlorn bunch huddled together, their faces always
turned to the southeast, for the wind went that way. It
was an odd sight. It was also a pitiful one. Hundreds
had run with the wind from the higher range altitude,
seeking the protection of the bluffs. The river only
stopped the blind, onward impetus. The flat where
the camps had been might have been a close corral,
so thickly were the animals crowded together, their
faces turned uncompromisingly with the wind.

But the most pathetic part of the situation made
itself felt later in the day when the crying need of food
for this vast herd began to be a serious menace. Star
vation stared these hundreds of cattle in the face. Men
felt this grimly. But it was out of the question to
attempt to drive them back to the grass lands in the
teeth of the storm. Nothing could be done that day at
least. But during the second night the wind fell away,
the snow ceased. Morning dawned clear, still, and sting-
ingly cold, and the sun came up with a goodly following
of sun-dogs. Then such a sight greeted the inhabitants
of the little town as perhaps they had never seen before
— and yet they had seen many things having to do
with cattle. There was little grass in the town for
them, but every little dead spear that had lived and
died in the protection of the sidewalk or in out-of-the-
way corners had been ravenously nipped. Where snow
[227]

Langford of the Three Bars

had drifted over a likely place, it had been pawed aside.
Where there had been some grass, south of town and
east, the ground was as naked now as though it had
been peeled. Every bit of straw had been eaten from
manure piles, so that only pawed-over mounds of pulver
ized dust remained. Garbage heaps looked as if there
had been a general Spring cleaning-up. And there was
nothing more now. Every heap of refuse, every grass
plot had been ransacked — there was nothing left for
those hundreds of starving brutes. Many jurors, held
in waiting, begged permission to leave, to drive their
cattle home. Whenever practicable, these requests were
granted. The aggregate loss to the county would be
enormous if the cattle were allowed to remain here
many more days. Individual loss would go hard with
many of the small owners. The cattle stupidly made
no move to return to the grass lands of their own
volition.

Later in the day, the numbers were somewhat thinned,
but things were happening in the little church room
that made men forget — so concentrated was the inter
est within those four walls. So close was the pack of
people that the fire roaring in the big stove in the mid
dle of the room was allowed to sink in smouldering
quiet. The heavy air had been unbearable else. The
snow that had been brought in on tramping feet lay in
little melted pools on the rough flooring. Men forgot
to eat peanuts and women forgot to chew their gum —
[228]

The Escape

except one or two extremely nervous ones whose jaws
moved the faster under the stimulus of hysteria. Jesse
Black was telling his story.

" Along toward the first of last July, I took a hike
out into the Indian country to buy a few head o' cattle.
I trade considerable with the half-breeds around Crow
Creek and Lower Brule. They 're always for sellin' and
if it comes to a show-down never haggle much about
the lucre — it all goes for snake-juice anyway. Well, I
landed at John Yellow Wolf's shanty along about noon
and found there was others ahead o' me. Yellow Wolf
always was a popular cuss. There was Charlie Night-
bird, Pete Monroe, Jesse Big Cloud, and two or three
others whose mugs I did not happen to be onto. After
our feed, we all strolled out to the corral. Yellow
Wolf said he had bought a likely little bunch from
some English feller who was skipping the country —
starved out and homesick — and had n't put 'em on the
range yet. He said J R was the English feller's brand.
I didn't suspicion no underhand dealin's. Yellow
Wolf's always treated me white before, so I bargained
for this here chap and three or four others and then
pulled out for home driving the bunch. They fed at
home for a spell and then I decided to put 'em on the
range. On the way I fell in with Billy Brown here.
He was dead set on havin' the lot to fill in the chinks
of the two carloads he was shippin', so I up and lets
him have 'em. I showed him this here bill-o'-sale from
[229]

Langford of the Three Bars

Yellow Wolf and made him out one from me, and that
was all there was to it. He rode on to Velpen, and I
turned on my trail.11

It was a straight story, and apparently damaging for
the prosecution. It corroborated the attestations of
other witnesses — many others. It had a plausible ring
to it. Two bills of sale radiated atmospheric legality.
If there had been dirty work, it must have originated
with that renegade half-breed, Yellow Wolf. And
Yellow Wolf was dead. He had died while serving a
term in the penitentiary for cattle-rustling. Uncle
Sam himself had set the seal upon him — and now he
was dead. This insinuated charge he could not answer.
The finality of it seemed to set its stamp upon the peo
ple gathered there — upon the twelve good men and
true, as well as upon others. Yellow Wolf was dead.
George Williston was dead. Their secrets had died
with them. An inscrutable fate had lowered the veil.
Who could pierce it ? One might believe, but who
could know? And the law required knowledge.

"We will call Charlie Nightbird," said Small,
complacently.

There was a little waiting silence — a breathless, pal
pitating silence.

" Is Charlie Nightbird present ? " asked Small, casting

rather anxious eyes over the packed, intent faces.

Charlie Nightbird was not present. At least he made

no sign of coming forward. The face of the young

[230]

The Escape

counsel for the State was immobile during the brief
time they waited for Charlie Nightbird — whose dark,
frozen face was at that moment turned toward the
cold, sparkling sky, and who would never come, not
if they waited for him till the last dread trump of
the last dread day.

There was some mistake. Counsel had been mis
informed. Nightbird was an important witness. He
had been reported present. Never mind. He was
probably unavoidably detained by the storm. They
would call Jesse Big Cloud and others to corroborate
the defendant's statements — which they did, and the
story was sustained in all its parts, major and minor.
Then the defence rested.

Richard Gordon arose from his chair. His face was
white. His lean jaws were set. His eyes were steel.
He was anything but a lover now, this man Gordon.
Yet the slim little court reporter with dark circles of
homesickness under her eyes had never loved him half
so well as at this moment. His voice was clear and
deliberate.

" Your honor, I ask permission of the Court to call a
witness in direct testimony. I assure your honor that
the State had used all efforts in its power to obtain the
presence of this witness before resting its case, but had
failed and believed at the time that he could not be
produced. The witness is now here and I consider his
testimony of the utmost importance in this case.1'
[ 231 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

Counsel for the defendant objected strenuously, but
the Court granted the petition. He wanted to hear
everything that might throw some light on the dark
places in the evidence.

" I call Mr. George Williston," said Gordon.

Had the strain crazed him ? Louise covered her
eyes with her hands. Men sat as if dazed. And thus,
the cynosure of all eyes — stupefied eyes — Williston
of the ravaged Lazy S, thin and worn but calm, natural
and scholarly-looking as of old — walked from the
little ante-room at the side into the light and knowl
edge of men once more and raised his hand for the
oath. Not until this was taken and he had sat quietly
down in the witness chair did the tension snap. Even
then men found it difficult to focus their attention on
the enormous difference this new witness must make in
the case that a few moments before had seemed settled.

Mary sat with shining eyes in the front row of
wooden chairs. It was no wonder she had laughed and
been so gay all the dreary yesterday and all the worse
to-day. Louise shot her a look of pure gladness.

Small's face was ludicrous in its drop-jawed astonish
ment. The little lawyer's face was a study. A look
of defiance had crept into the defendant's countenance.

The preliminary questions were asked and answered.

" Mr. Williston, you may state where you were and
what you saw on the fourteenth day of July last."
Williston, the unfortunate gentleman and scholar,

The Escape

the vanquished cowman, for a brief while the most
important man in the cow country, perhaps, was about
to uncover to men^s understanding the dark secret
hitherto obscured by a cloud of supposition and hear
say. He told the story of his visit to the island, and
he told it well. It was enough. Gordon asked no
further questions regarding that event.

" And now, Mr. Williston, you may tell what hap
pened to you on the night of the thirtieth of last
August."

Williston began to tell the story of the night attack
upon the Lazy S, when the galvanic Small jumped to
his feet. The little lawyer touched him with a light
hand.

" Your honor," he said, smoothly, " I object to
that as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial, and not
binding on the defendant."

" Your honor," interrupted Gordon, with great calm
ness, " we intend to show you before we get through
that this testimony is competent, and that it is binding
upon the defendant."

" Was the defendant there ? "

" The defendant was there."

The objection was overruled.

So Williston told briefly but to the point the story
of the night attack upon his home, of the defence by
himself and his daughter, and of the burning of his
house and sheds. Then he proceeded :
[233]

Langford of the Three Bars

"Suddenly, some one caught me from behind, my
arms were pinioned to my sides, something was clapped
over my mouth. I was flung over a horse and strapped
to the saddle all in less time than it takes to tell it,
and was borne away in company with the man who
had overpowered me."

He paused a moment in his recital. Faces strained
with expectancy devoured him — his every look and
word and action. Mary was very pale, carried thus
back to the dread realities of that night in August,
and shuddered, remembering that ghastly galloping.
Langford could scarce restrain himself. He wanted to
rip out a blood-curdling Sioux war-whoop on the spot.

" Who was this man, Mr. Williston ? " asked
Gordon.

" Jesse Black.11

Small was on his feet again, gesticulating wildly.

" I object ! This is all a fabrication, put in here
to prejudice the minds of the jury against this defend
ant. It is a pack of lies, and I move that it be stricken
from the record."

The little lawyer bowed his head to the storm and
shrugged up his shoulders. Perhaps he wished that he,
or his associates — one of the unholy alliance at least
— was where the wicked cease from troubling, on the
far-away islands of the deep seas, possibly, or home on
the farm. But his expression told nothing.

" Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! " expostulated Judge Dale.

The Escape

" Gentlemen ! I insist. This is all out of order.11
Only one gentleman was out of order, but that was the
Judge's way. Gordon had remained provokingly cool
under the tirade.

Again the soft touch. Small fell into his chair.
He poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher
standing on the attorneys1 table and drank a little of
it nervously.

"I move,11 said the little lawyer, "that all this
touching upon the personal matter of this witness and
having to do with his private quarrels be stricken out
of the evidence as not bearing on the case in question.11

All in vain. The Judge ruled that it did bear on
the case, and Williston picked up the thread of his
story.

" We rode and rode hard — it must have been hours ;
daylight was coming before we stopped. Our horses
were spent. I had no idea where we were. From the
formation of the land, I judged we were not far from
the river. We were surrounded by bluffs. I can hardly
make you see how cleverly this little retreat had been
planned. It was in a valley — one of a hundred similar
in all essential respects. The gulch at the bottom of
the valley was heavily wooded with scrub-oak, cotton-
wood, woodbine, and plum-trees, and this tangle of foli
age extended for some distance up the sides of the hills.
In the midst of this underbrush — a most excellent
screen — was a tiny cabin. In this tiny cabin I have
[235]

Langford of the Three Bars

lived, a closely watched prisoner, from that day until
I escaped.1'

The defendant stirred a little uneasily. Was he
thinking of Nightbird with the dark, frozen face — who
had not answered to his call ?

" Black left me soon after. He did not unbind me,
rather bound me the tighter. There was no one then
to watch me. He deigned to inform me that he had
found it rather inconvenient to kill me after the relief
party rode up, as then there was no absolute surety
of his making a clean get-away, and being caught in
the act would be bound to be unpleasant, very unpleas
ant just then, so he had altered his plans a little — for
the present. He gave me no hint either that time, nor.
either of the two times I saw him subsequently, as to
what was to be his ultimate disposal of me. I could
only suppose that after this trial was well over in his
favor, and fear of indictment for arson and murder had
blown over — if blow over it did, — he would then
quietly put an end to me. Dead men tell no tales.
The shanty in the gulch did not seem to be much
of a rendezvous for secret meetings. I led a lonely ex
istence. My jailers were mostly half-breeds — usually
Charlie Nightbird. Two or three times Jake Sander
son was my guard."

Then from the doorway came a loud, clear, resonant
voice, a joyful voice, a voice whose tones fairly oozed
rapture.

[236]

The Escape

" Hellity damn ! The Three Bars 's a gettin1 busy,
Mouse-hair ! "

Judge Dale started. He glared angrily in that
direction.

"Remove that man ! " he ordered, curtly. He liked
Jim, but he could not brook this crying contempt of
court. Jim was removed. He went quietly, but shak
ing his head reproachfully.

" I never would V thought it o1 the Jedge,"
he murmured, disconsolately. " I never would V
thought it.11

There was a movement in the back of the room. A
man was making his way out, slipping along, cat
like, trying to evade attention. Quietly Gordon mo
tioned to the sheriff and slipped a paper into his
hand.

"Look sharp," he whispered, his steady eyes on the
shifty ones of the sheriff. " If you let him get away,
just remember the handwriting on the wall. It's our
turn now."

Presently, there was a slight scuffle by the door and
two men quietly left the improvised court-room.

" Day before yesterday, in the afternoon," continued
Williston, "I managed to knock Nightbird down at
the threshold as he was about to enter. I had secretly
worked a cross-beam from the low, unfinished ceiling.
There was nothing else in the room I might use for
a weapon. They were very careful. I think I killed
[ 237 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

him, your honor and gentlemen of the jury. I am not
sorry. There was no other way. But I would rather
it had been the maker, not the tool. By the time
I had made my way back to the Lazy S, I was too
exhausted to go further ; so I crawled over to my
neighbors, the Whites, and Mother White made me
a shake-down. I lay there, nearly dead, until this
morning."

He leaned back wearily.

Black stood up. He was not lank nor lazy now, nor
shuffling. His body was drawn to its full height. In
the instant before the spring, Mary, who was sitting
close to the attorneys'* table, met his glance squarely.
She read there what he was about to do. Only a
moment their eyes held each other's, but it was time
enough for a swift message of understanding, of utter
dislike, and of a determined will to defeat the man's
purpose, to pass from the accusing brown eyes to the
cruel ones of the defendant.

Quick as a flash, Black seized the chair upon which
he had been sitting, sprang clear of the table and his
lawyers, and landed close to Mary's side. With his
chair as a weapon, he meant to force his way to the
nearest window. Mary's eyes dilated. Unhesitatingly
she seized the half-emptied glass on the table and
dashed the contents of it full into the prisoner's face.
Blinded, he halted a moment in his mad rush. Mary's
quick manoeuvre made Langford's opportunity. He
[238]

The Escape

grappled with Black. The crowd went mad with
excitement.

The prisoner still retained his chair. When Lang-
ford grappled with him, he attempted to bring it down
upon the fair head of his antagonist. Mary gasped
with dread, but Langford grasped the chair with one
muscular hand, wrested it from the desperado's hold,
and threw it to the floor. The two men locked in a
close embrace. Langford's great strength was more
than sufficient to hold the outlaw until the dazed offi
cers could do their duty — had he been let alone ; but
two men, who had been standing near the door when
the prisoner made his unexpected leap for liberty, had
succeeded in worming their way through the excited
crowd, and now suddenly threw themselves upon the
ranchman, dragging him back.

" Stand aside or 1 11 shoot ! "

It was a girl's voice, clear and firm. Mary had been
the first to realize that Black's friends, not Langford's,
had joined in the struggle. She snatched her revolver
from her cowboy belt — she had not been without
either since the Lazy S was burned — and cried out
her challenge. Glancing quickly from the gleaming
barrel to the determined face of the young girl, the
men let go their hold of Langford and fell back
precipitately.

Instantly, Langford sprang forward, but Black had
made good use of his moment of grace. Swinging his
[239]

Langford of the Three Bars

arms to the right and left, he had beaten his way
to the window, when Langford again seized him,
but he had the advantage this time and he tore
himself loose, throwing Langford violently against
the window-casing. With his bare, clinched fist, he
shivered the glass and leaped out — into the arms of
Jim Munson.

The officers made gallant plunges through the stam
peded crowd in their efforts to get clear of the room to
follow the fugitive. But certain men managed to keep
themselves clumsily, but with marvellous adroitness
nevertheless, between the deputies and the doors and
windows ; so that several moments elapsed before the
outside was finally gained.

Meanwhile, Jim struggled heroically with the outlaw.
Black was far superior to him in weight and strength of
limb, but Jim was quick and tough and daring. Ex
pelled from the court-room, he had been watching
through the window. He had seen Mary's quick action
and his Boss's splendid attack. He had also seen the
little " gun play " and his eyes glowed in admiration of
"Williston's little girl," though his generous heart
ached for love of the woman who was not for him.
He saw Black coming. He was ready for him. He
grappled with him at once. If the Boss or the officers
would only come now !

When they did come, they found Jim stretched at
length on the frozen ground. He sat up slowly.
[240]

The Escape

tt You 're too late, boys," he said ; " the hoss thief
was too much for me. He 's gone."

It was true. The little street stretched before them
still — deserted. Early twilight was coming on. The
biting cold struck them broadside. The deputies
scattered in vain pursuit.

16

[241]

CHAPTER XXI

THE MOVING SHADOW

" T 'D rather not talk about it to-night. I 'm not

I equal to it. It 's too — too — it "s devilish, Paul.

I don't seem to be able to grasp it. I can't think

about it with any coherence. I was so sure — so sure.1'

Gordon was staring moodily out of the window, one
arm hanging idly over the back of his chair. He had
taken up office room in an empty shop building across
the street from the hotel.

" It 's so devilish, it 's weird," agreed the ranchman.
" But your part was great. You vanquished Jesse
Black. That is more than we hoped for a week ago.
Is it your fault or mine that those fool deputies acted
like flies in tangle-foot and went spraddle-fingered
when something was expected of them ? We have
nothing to do with a little thing like a broken window-
pane."

There was an ugly cut on his forehead caused by his
violent contact with the sharp edge of the window-
casing. He was pale, but he had lost none of the old
faith in himself or in his power to dominate affairs in
the cattle-country. Defeat was intolerable to him.

The Moving Shadow

He refused to bow his head to it. To-day's check only
made him the more determined, if that were possible, to
free the land of its shame.

"I'll pull myself together again, never fear," said
Gordon. " Just give me to-night. You see that 's not
all. I 've something else to think about, too, now that
I have time. It takes a fellow's nerve away to have
everything that is worth while drop out at once. But
I Ve rallied before. I know I 'm beastly selfish not to
talk to you to-night, but — "

"Dick," interrupted Langford, bluntly, "did she
turn you down?"

"I never asked her. She is going back — home
— next week."

" If you let her."

" You don't quite understand, Paul," said Gordon,
a little wearily. " She said she could never live in this
country — never. She would die here. Could I ask
her after that ? Could I ask her anyway, and be a
man? I know. She would just pine away."

" Girls don't pine — only in imagination. They are
tougher than you give them credit for."

" But somehow, Mary seems different," said Gordon,
thoughtfully. He surprised a flush in his friend's
cheek. "You deserve her, old man, you'll be very
happy. She is the right kind. I congratulate you with
all my heart."

An odd lump came into Langford's throat. Despite
[243]

Langford of the Three Bars

Gordon's vigorous and healthful manhood, there seemed
always a certain pathos of life surrounding him.

" I have n't asked, either," confessed Paul. " But
you have made it possible for me to do so — to-night
— to-morrow — whenever I can find a chance. Take
my advice, old man, don't let your girl go. You'll
find she is the kind after all. You don't know her
yet."

Paul left the room, and Gordon paced the narrow
confines of his shabby office — back and forth — many
times. Then he threw himself once more into his chair.
The hours were long. He had all night to think
about things. When morning came, all his weakness
would be over. No one should ever again see him so
unmanned as Paul had seen him to-night. And when
Louise should go — his arms fell nervelessly to the table.
He remained thus a moment, his eyes fixed and unsee
ing, and then his head dropped heavily upon his arms.

Alone in the night, Louise awoke. She found it
impossible to fall asleep again. She was nervous. It
must be something in the atmosphere. She tossed and
tossed and flounced and flounced. She counted up to
thousands. She made her mind a blank so often that
she flew to thinking to escape the emptiness of it.
Still her eyes were wide and her mind fairly a-quiver
with activity. She slipped out of bed. She would
tire herself into sleep. She even dressed. She would
show herself. If she must be a midnight prowler, she
[244]

The Moving Shadow

would wear the garments people affect when they have
their thoughts and energies fixed on matters mundane.
Drawing the oil stove close to the window fronting the
street, she sank into a chair, drew a heavy shawl over
her shoulders, put her feet on the tiny fender, and pre
pared to fatigue herself into oblivion.

A light shone from the window across the way. He
was still at work, then. He ought not to sit up so late.
No wonder he was looking so worn out lately. He
ought to have some one to look after him. He never
thought of himself. He never had time. She would
talk to him about keeping such late hours — if she
were not going back to God's country next week.
Only next week ! It was too good to be true, — and yet
she sighed. But there was no other way. She ought
never to have come. She was not big enough. He,
too, had told her she was not the kind. Doubtless,
he knew. And she didn't belong to anybody here.
She was glad she was going back to where she belonged
to somebody. She would never go away again.

Was that Gordon passing back and forth in front of
the window ? Something must be troubling him. Was
it because Jesse Black had escaped ? But what a glori
ous vindication of his belief in the man's guilt had
that afternoon been given ! Nothing lacked there.
Why should he be sorry ? Sometimes, she had thought
he might care, — that day crossing the river for in
stance ; but he was so reserved — he never said — and
[245]

Langford of the Three Bars

it was much, much better that he did not care, now
that she was going away and would never come back.
There was nothing in all the world that could make
her come back to this big, bleak, lonesome land where
she belonged to nobody. But she was sorry for him.
He looked sad and lonely. He did n't belong to any
body here, either, yet he was n't going to run away as
she was. Well, but he was a man, and men were
different.

And now she noticed that his head had sunk down
onto his arms. How still he sat ! The minutes passed
away. Still he sat motionless, his face buried.

It was dark. The yellow gleam streaming out of
the window only served to make the surrounding dark
ness denser. The lamp on the table cast a pale circle
immediately in front of the office. There was no other
flicker of light on the street. Into this circle there
moved a shadow. It retreated, — advanced again, —
glided back into obscurity. Was it something alive,
or did the moving of the lamp cause the shadows to
thus skip about ? But the lamp had not been moved.
It burned steadily in the same position. The relaxed
form of the unconscious man was still bent over the
table. Nothing had changed within. Probably some
dog locked out for the night had trotted within the
radius of light. Maybe a cotton-tail had hopped into
the light for a second. Louise did not know whether
rabbits ever came into the town, but it was likely they
[ 246 ]

The Moving Shadow

did. It might have been one of the strayed cattle
wandering about in search of food. That was the most
probable supposition of all. Of course it might have
been only her imagination. The little pinch of fright
engendered of the moving shadow and the eerie hour
passed away. Her eyes grew pensive again. How still
it was ! Had Gordon fallen asleep ? He lay so
quietly. Had he grieved himself into slumber as a
girl would do ? No — men were not like that.

Ah ! There was the moving shadow again ! She
caught her breath quickly. Then her eyes grew wide
and fixed with terror. This time the shadow did not
slink away again. It came near the window, crouching.
Suddenly, it stood up straight. Merciful Father!
Why is it that a human being, a creature of reason and
judgment, prowling about at unnatural hours, inspires
ten-fold more terror to his kind than does a brute
in like circumstances of time and place ? Louise tried
to scream aloud. Her throat was parched. A sudden
paralysis held her speechless. It was like a nightmare.
She writhed and fought desperately to shake herself
free of this dumb horror. The cold damp came out
on her forehead. Afterward she remembered that she
knew the man and that it was this knowledge that
had caused her nightmare of horror to be so unspeak
ably dreadful. Now she was conscious only of the
awfulness of not being able to cry out. If she could
only awaken Mary ! The man lifted his arm. He had
[247]

Langford of the Three Bars

something in his hand. Its terrible import broke the
spell of her speechlessness.

"Mary! Mary!1'

She thought she shrieked. In reality, she gasped
out a broken whisper ; but it thrilled so with terror
and pleading that Mary was awakened on the instant.
She sprang out of bed. As her feet touched the floor,
a pistol shot rang out, close by. She had been trained
to quick action, and superb health left no room for
cobwebs to linger in the brain when she was suddenly
aroused. She had no need for explanations. The shot
was enough. If more was needed, there was the lighted
window across the way and here was Louise crouched
before their own. Swiftly and silently, she seized
her revolver from the bureau, glided to the window,
and fired three times in rapid succession, the reports
mingling with the sound of shattered glass.

" I think I hit him the second time, Louise," she
said, with a dull calm. "I can't be sure."

She lighted a lamp and began to dress mechanically.
Louise stayed not to answer. In the hall, she encoun
tered Paul Langford, just as another shot rang out.

" Go back, Miss Dale," he cried, hurriedly but per
emptorily. "You mustn't come. I am afraid there
has been foul play."

She looked at him. It hurt, that look.

" He is dead," she whispered, " I am going to him,"
and glided away from his detaining hand.
[248]

The Moving Shadow

He hurried after her. Others had been aroused by
the nearness of the pistol shots. Doors were thrown
open. Voices demanded the meaning of the disturb
ance. Putting his arm around the trembling girl,
Langford hastened across the street with her. At
the door of Gordon's office, he paused.

" I will go in first, Louise. You stay here."

He spoke authoritatively ; but she slipped in ahead
of him. Her arms fell softly over the bowed shoulders.
Her cheek dropped to the dark, gray-streaked hair.
There was little change, seemingly. The form was only
a little more relaxed, the attitude only a little more
helpless. It seemed as if he might have been sleeping.
There was a sound, a faint drip, drip, drip, in the room.
It was steady, monotonous, like drops falling from rain
pipes after the storm is over. Langford opened the
door.

" Doc ! Doc Lockhart ! Some one send Doc over
here quick ! Gordon's office ! Be quick about it ! "
he cried, in a loud, firm voice. Then he closed the
door and locked it. In response to his call, footsteps
were heard running. The door was tried. Then came
loud knocking and voices demanding admittance.

" No one can come in but Doc,"" cried Langford
through the keyhole. " Send him quick, somebody, for
God's sake! Where's Jim Munson ? He'll get him
here. Quick, I tell you ! "

He hastened back to the side of his friend and passed
[249]

Langford of the Three Bars

his hand gently over the right side to find the place
whence came that heartbreaking drip. Disappointed
in their desire to get in, men crowded before the win
dow. Louise stepped softly forward and drew the
blind between him and the mass of curious faces with
out. She was very pale, but quiet and self-possessed.
She had rallied when Langford had whispered to her
that Gordon's heart was still beating. The doctor
rapped loudly, calling to Langford to open. Paul
admitted him and then stepped out in full sight of all,
his hand still on the knob. The late moon was just
rising. A faint light spread out before him.

"Boys,1" he cried, a great grief in his stern voice,
"it's murder. Dick Gordon's murdered. Now get —
you know what for — and be quick about it ! "

They laid him gently on the floor, took off his coat,
and cut away the blood-soaked shirts. Louise assisted
with deft, tender hands. Presently, the heavy lids lifted,
the gray eyes stared vacantly for a moment — then
smiled. Paul bent over him.

" What happened, old man ? " the wounded man
whispered gropingly. It required much effort to say
this little, and a shadow of pain fell over his face.

" Hush, Dick, dear boy," said Langford, with a catch
in his voice. " You 're all right now, but you must n't
talk. You 're too weak. We are going to move you
across to the hotel."

" But what happened ? " he insisted.
[250]

The Moving Shadow

" You were shot, you know, Dick. Keep quiet,
now ! I 'm going for a stretcher."

" Am I done for ? " the weak voice kept on. But
there was no fear in it.

" You will be if you keep on talking like that."

Obeying a sign from the doctor, he slipped away and
out. Gordon closed his eyes and was still for a long
time. His face was white and drawn with suffering.

" Has he fainted ? " whispered Louise.

The eyes opened quickly. They fell upon Louise,
who had not time to draw away. The shadow of the
old, sweet smile came and hovered around his lips.

" Louise," he whispered.

"Yes, it is I," she said, laying her hand lightly on
his forehead. " You must be good until Paul gets
back."

" I 'm done for, so the rest of the criminal calendar
will have to go over. You can go back to — God's
country — sooner than you thought."

" I am not going back to — God's country," said
Louise, unexpectedly. She had not meant to say it,
but she meant it when she said it.

"Come here, close to me, Louise," said Gordon, in a
low voice. He had forgotten the doctor. " You had
better — I '11 get up if you don't. Closer still. I want
you to — kiss me before Paul gets back."

Louise grew whiter. She glanced hesitatingly at the
doctor, timidly at the new lover in the old man. Then
[ 251 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

she bent over him where he lay stretched on the floor
and kissed him on the lips. A great light came into
his eyes before he closed them contentedly and slipped
into unconsciousness again.

Langford rounded up Jim Munson and sent him
across with a stretcher, and then ran up-stairs for an
extra blanket off his own bed. It was bitterly cold, and
Dick must be well wrapped. On the upper landing, he
encountered Mary alone. Something in her desolate
attitude stopped him.

" What 's the matter, Mary," he demanded, seizing
her hands.

" Nothing," she answered, dully. " How is he ? "

"All right, I trust and pray, but hurt terribly,
wickedly."

He did not quite understand. Did she love Gordon ?
Was that why she looked so heart-broken ? Taking
her face in his two hands, he compelled her to look at
him straight.

" Now tell me," he said.

" Did I kill him ?" she asked.

"Kill whom?"

" Why, him — Jesse Black."

Then he understood.

" Mary, my girl, was it you ? Were those last shots
yours ? " All the riotous love in him trembled on his
tongue.

"Did I?" she persisted.

[252]

The Moving Shadow

" God grant you did," he said, solemnly. " There is
blood outside the window, but he is gone/'

"I don't like to kill people," she said, brokenly.
"Why do I always have to do it?"

He drew her to him strongly and held her close
against his breast.

"You are the bravest and best girl on earth," he
said. " My girl, — you are my girl, you know, — here
after I will do all necessary killing for — my wife."

He kissed the sweet, quivering lips as he said it.

Some one came running up the stairs, and stopped
suddenly in front of the two in the passage.

" Why, Jim ! " cried Langford in surprise. " I thought
you had gone with the stretcher."

" I did go," said Jim, swallowing hard. He shifted
nervously from one spurred foot to the other. " But I
came back."

He looked at Langford beseechingly.

" Boss, I want to see you a minute, ef — Mary don't
mind."

"I will come with you, Jim, now," said Langford
with quick apprehension.

" Mary," — Jim turned away and stared unseeingly
down the staircase, — "go back to your room for a
little while. I will call for you soon. Keep up your
courage."

" Wait," said Mary, quietly. There were unsounded
depths of despair in her voice, though it was so clear
[253]

Langford of the Three Bars

and low. " There was another shot. I remember now.
Jim, tell me ! "

Jim turned. The rough cowboy's eyes were wet — for
the first time in many a year.

" They — hope he won't die, Mary, girl. Your
father 's shot bad, but he ain't dead. We think Black
did it after he run from Gordon's office. We found
him on the corner."

Langford squared his broad shoulders — then put
strong, protecting arms around Mary. Now was he
her all.

" Come, my darling, we will go to him together."

She pushed him from her violently.

"I will go alone. Why should you come? He is
mine. He is all I have — there is no one else. Why
don't you go ? You are big and strong — can't you
make that man suffer for my father's murder ? Jim,
take me to him."

She seized the cowboy's arm, and they went out
together, and on down the stairs.

Langford stood still a moment, following them with
his eyes. His face was white. He bent his head. Jim,
looking back, saw him thus, the dull light from the
hall-lamp falling upon the bent head and the yellow
hair. When Langford raised his head, his face, though
yet white, bore an expression of concentrated deter
mination.

He, too, strode quickly down the stairs.
[254]

CHAPTER XXII

THE OUTLAW'S LAST STAND

IN the morning the sheriff went to the island. He
reported the place deserted. He made many other
trips. Sometimes he took a deputy with him ;
more often he rode unaccompanied. Richard Gordon
lay helpless in a burning fever, with Paul Langford in
constant and untiring attendance upon him. George
Williston was a sadly shattered man.

" I met Black on the corner west of Gordon's office,"
he explained, when he could talk. "I had not been
able to sleep, and had been walking to tire my nerves
into quiet. I was coming back to the hotel when I
heard Black's shot and then Mary's. I ran forward and
met Black on the corner, running. He stopped, cried
out, ' You, too, damn you/ and that 's the last I knew
until the boys picked me up."

These were the most interested — Langford, Gordon,
Williston. Had they been in the count, things might
have been different. It is very probable a posse would
have been formed for immediate pursuit. But others
must do what had been better done had it not been for
those shots in the dark. There was blood outside Gor
don's window ; yet Black had not crawled home to die.
[ 255 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

He had not gone home at all, — at least, that is what
the sheriff said. No one had seen the convicted man
after his desperate and spectacular exit from the court
room — no one at least but Louise, Mary, and her
father. Mary's shot had not killed him, but it had
saved Richard Gordon's life, which was a far better
thing. It was impossible to track him out of town, for
the cattle had trampled the snow in every direction.

The authorities could gather no outside information.
The outlying claims and ranches refuted indignantly
any hint of their having given aid or shelter to the
fugitive, or of having any cognizance whatsoever re
garding his possible whereabouts. So the pursuit, at
first hot and excited, gradually wearied of following
false leads, — contented itself with desultory journeys
when prodded thereto by the compelling power of
public opinion, — finally ceased altogether even as a
pretence.

One of the first things done following the dramatic
day in court had been to send the officers out to ,the
little shanty in the valley where the half-breed lay dead
across the threshold. A watch was also set upon this
place ; but no one ever came there.

August had come again, and Judge Dale was in
Kemah to hear a court case.

Langford had ridden in from the ranch on purpose
to see Judge Dale. His clothes were spattered with
mud. There had been a succession of storms, lasting
[256]

The Outlaw's Last Stand

for several days ; last night a cloud had burst out west
somewhere. All the creeks were swollen.

" Judge, I believe Jesse Black has been on that island
of his all the time/'

" What makes you think so, Langford ? "

" Because our sheriff is four-flushing — he always was
in sympathy with the gang, you know. Besides, where
else can Black be ? "

Dale puckered his lips thoughtfully.

" What have you heard ? " he asked.

"Rumors are getting pretty thick that he has been
seen in that neighborhood on several occasions. It is
my honest belief he has never left it."

" What did you think of doing about it, Langford ? "

" I want you to give me a bench warrant, Judge. I
am confident that I can get him. It is the shame of
the county that he is still at large."

" You have to deal with one of the worst and most
desperate outlaws in the United States. You must
know it will be a very hazardous undertaking, granting
your surmises to be correct, and fraught with grave
peril for some one."

"I understand that fully."

" This duty is another's, not yours."

" But that other is incompetent."

" My dear fellow," said the Judge, rising and laying
his hand on Langford's big shoulder, "do you really
want to undertake this ? "

17 [ 257 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

" I certainly do."

" Then I will give you the warrant, gladly. You are
the one man in the State to do it — unless I except the
gallant little deputy -marshal. You know the danger.
I admire your grit, my boy. Get him if you can ; but
take care of yourself. Your life is worth so much more
than his. Who will you take with you ? "

" Munson, of course. He will go in spite of the
devil, and he 's the best man I know for anything like
this. Then I thought of taking the deputy-sheriff.
He's been true blue all along, and has done the very
best possible under the conditions."

" Very good. Take Johnson, too. He 11 be glad to
go. He's the pluckiest little fighter in the world, —
not a cowardly hair in his head."

So it was agreed, and the next morning, bright and
early, the little posse, reinforced by others who had
earnestly solicited the privilege of going along, started
out on its journey. The rains were over, but the roads
were heavy. In many places, they were forced to walk
their mounts. No one but the initiated know what
gumbo mud means. Until they took to the hills, the
horses could scarcely lift their feet, so great would be
the weight of the sticky black earth which clung in
immense chunks to their hoofs. When thev struck the
hills, it was better and they pressed forward rapidly.
Once only the sheriff had asserted that he had run
across the famous outlaw. Black had resisted savagely
[258]

THE L:

The Outlaw's Last Stand

and had escaped, sending back the bold taunt that he
would never be taken alive. Such a message might
mean death to some of the plucky posse now making
for the old-time haunts of the desperado.

The sun struggled from behind rain -exhausted clouds,
and a rollicking wind blew up. The clouds skurried
a way toward the horizon.

At White River ford, the men looked at each other
in mute inquiry. The stream was a raging torrent.
It was swollen until it was half again its ordinary
width. The usually placid waters were rushing and
twisting into whirlpool-like rapids.

" What now ? " asked Baker, the deputy-sheriff.

" I 'm thinkin' this here little pleasure party 11 have
to be postponed," vouchsafed one of the volunteers,
nodding his head wisely.

" We '11 sure have to wait for the cloud-bust to run
out," agreed another.

" Why, we can swim that all right," put in Langford,
rallying from his momentary set-back and riding his
mount to the very edge of the swirling water.

" Hold on a minute there, Boss," cried Jim. " Don't
be rash now. What 's the census of 'pinion o' this
here company ? Shall we resk the ford or shall we
not?"

" Why, Jim," said Paul, a laugh in his blue eyes,
" are you afraid ? What 's come over you ? "

"Nothin'. I ain't no coward neither, and ef you
[259]

Langford of the Three Bars

wasn't the Boss I'd show you. I was just a thin kin'
o' — somebody who 'd care — that 's all."

Just for a moment a far-away look came into the
young ranchman's eyes. Then he straightened himself
in his saddle.

" I, for one, am going to see this thing through," he
said, tersely. " What do you say, Johnson ? "

" I never for one minute calculated on doing a thing
else," replied the deputy-marshal, who had been stand
ing somewhat apart awaiting the end of the controversy,
with a good-humored smile in his twinkling blue eyes.

" Good for you ! Then come on ! "

Paul urged Sade into the water. He was followed
unhesitatingly by Munson, Johnson, and Baker. The
others held back, and finally, after a short consultation,
wheeled and retraced their steps.

" I ain't no coward, neither," muttered one, as he
rode away, "but I plumb don't see no sense in bein'
drownded. I 'd ruther be killed a roundin' up Jesse."

The horses which had made the initial plunge were
already in water up to their breasts. The current had
an ominous rush to it.

" I don't care. I did n't mean to hold over and let
our quarry get wind of this affair," cried Langford,
over his shoulder. " Keep your rifles dry, boys ! "

Suddenly, without warning, Sade stepped into a hole

and lost her balance for a moment. She struggled

gallantly and recovered herself, yet it weakened her.

[260]

The Outlaw's Last Stand

It was not long before all the horses were compelled to
swim, and the force of the current immediately began
driving them down stream. Sade fought bravely against
the pressure. She was a plucky little cow pony and
loved her master, but it was about all she could do to
keep from going under, let alone making much head
way against the tremendous pressure of the current.
Langford's danger was grave.

" Steady, my girl ! " he encouraged. He flung his
feet free of the stirrups so that, if she went under,
he would be ready to try it alone. Poor Sade ! He
should hate to lose her. If he released her now and
struck off by himself, she might make it. He had
never known White River to run so sullenly and
strongly ; it would be almost impossible for a man
to breast it. And there was Mary — he could never
go back to her and claim her for his own until he
could bring Black back, too, to suffer for her father's
wrongs.

At that moment, Sade gave a little convulsive shud
der, and the water rolled over her head. Langford
slipped from the saddle, but in the instant of contact
with the pushing current, his rifle was jerked violently
from his hand and sank out of sight. With no time
for vain regrets, he struck out for the shore. The
struggle was tremendous. He was buffeted and beaten,
and borne farther and farther down the stream. More
than once in the endeavor to strike too squarely across,
[261]

Langford of the Thr«*e Bars

his head went under ; but he was a strong swimmer,
and soon scrambling up the bank some distance below
the ford, he turned and sent a resonant hail to his
comrades. They responded lustily He had been the
only one unhorsed. He threw himself face downward
to cough up some of the water he had been compelled
to swallow, and Munson, running up, began slapping
him vigorously upon the back. He desisted only to
run swiftly along the bank.

" Good for you," Jim cried, approvingly, assisting
Langford's spent horse up the bank. Coming up to
the party where Langford still lay stretched out full
length, Sade rubbed her nose inquiringly over the big
shoulders lying so low, and whinnied softly.

" Hello there ! " cried Paul, springing excitedly to his
feet. " Where 'd you come from ? Thought you had
crossed the bar. Now I'll just borrow a gun from one
of you fellows and we 11 be getting along. Better my
rifle than my horse at this stage of the game, anyway."

The little party pushed on. The longer half of their
journey was still before them. On the whole, perhaps,
it was better the crowd had split. There was more
unity of purpose among those who were left. The sun
was getting hot, and Langford's clothes dried rapidly.

Arrived at the entrance of the cross ravine which
Williston had once sought out, the four men rode their
horses safely through its length. The waters of the
June rise had receded, and the outlaw's presumably

The Outlaw's Last Stand

deserted holding was once more a peninsula. The
wooded section in the near distance lay green, cool, and
innocent-looking in the late summer sun. The sands
between stretched out hot in the white glare. From
the gulch covert, the wiry marshal rode first. His
face bore its wonted expression of good-humored alert
ness, but there was an inscrutable glint in his eyes that
might have found place there because of a sure real
ization of the hazard of the situation and of his accept
ing it. Langford followed him quickly, and Munson
and Baker were not far behind. They trotted breezily
across the open in a bunch, without words. Where
the indistinct trail to the house slipped into the wooded
enclosure, they paused. Was the desperado at last
really rounded up so that he must either submit
quietly or turn at bay ? It was so still. Spots of sun
light had filtered through the foliage and flecked the
pathway. Insects flitted about. Bumble bees droned.
Butterflies hovered over the snow-on-the-mountain. A
turtle dove mourned. A snake glided sinuously through
the grass. Peering down the warm, shaded interior,
one might almost imagine one was in the heart of an
ancient wood. The drowsy suggestions of solitude
crept in upon the sensibilities of all the men and filled
them with vague doubts. If this was the haunt of a
man, a careless, sordid man, would this place which
knew him breathe forth so sweet, still, and undisturbed
a peace?

[263]

Langford of the Three Bars

Langford first shook himself free of the haunting fear
of a deserted hearthstone.

" I 'd stake my all on my belief that he 's there," he
said, in a low voice. " Now listen, boys. Johnson and
I will ride to the house and make the arrest, providing
he does n't give us the slip. Baker, you and Jim will
remain here in ambush in case he does. He 's bound
to come this way to reach the mainland. Ready,
Johnson ? "

Jim interposed. His face was flinty with purpose.

" Not ef the court knows herself, and I think she
do. Me and Johnson will do that there little arrestin'
job and the Boss hell stay here in the ambush. Ef
anybody 's a countin' on my totin' the Boss's openwork
body back to Mary Williston, it's high time he was
a losin' the count, for I ain't goin' to do it."

He guided his horse straight into the path.

" But, Jim," expostulated Langford, laying a detain
ing hand on the cowboy's shoulder, "as for danger,
there's every bit as much — and more — here. Do
you think Jesse Black will tamely sit down and wait
for us to come up and nab him ? I think he '11
run."

"Then why are you a shirkin', ef this is the worst
spot o' all ? You ain't no coward, Boss, leastways you
never was. Why don't you stay by it ? That 's what
I'd like to know."

Johnson grinned appreciatively.
[264]

The Outlaw's Last Stand

" Well, there 's always the supposition that he may
not see us until we ride into his clearing," admitted
Langford. "Of course, then — it's too late."

Jim blocked the way.

" I 'm an ornery, no-'count cowboy with no one in
this hull world to know or care what becomes o' me.
There ain't no one to care but me, and I can't say I 'm
a hurtin' myself any a carin' ! You just wait till I
screech, will you?"

"Jim," said Langford, huskily, "you go back and
behave yourself. I 'm the Boss — not you. You Ve
got to obey orders. You Ve sassed me long enough.
You get back, now ! "

"Tell Mary, ef I come back a deader," said Jim,
" that women are superfluous critters, but I forgive
her. She can't help bein' a woman."

He gave his horse a dig with his knee and the
animal bounded briskly forward.

" Jim ! You fool boy ! Come back ! " cried Lang-
ford, plunging after him.

Johnson shrugged his shoulders, and wheeled his horse
into clever concealment on one side of the path.

" Let the fool kids go," he advised, dryly. " I 'm
a lookin' for Jess to run, anyway."

The two men rode boldly up toward the house. It

seemed deserted. Weeds were growing around the

door-stoop, and crowding thickly up to the front

windows. A spider's silver web gleamed from casing to

[ 265 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

panel of the warped and weather-stained door. The
windows were blurred with the tricklings of rain through
seasons of dust. Everything appeared unkempt, forlorn,
desolate.

There was a sound from the rear. It carried a
stealthy significance. A man leaped from the protec
tion of the cabin and was seen running toward the
barn. He was heavily armed.

"Stop that, Black!" yelled Langford, authorita
tively. " We are going to take you, dead or alive —
you "*d better give yourself up ! It will be better
for you ! "

The man answered nothing.

"Wing him with your rifle, Jim, before he gets
to the barn," said Paul, quickly.

The shot went wild. Black wrenched the door open,
sprang upon the already bridled horse, and made a bold
dash for the farther woods — and not in the direction
where determined men waited in ambush. What did it
mean ? As his horse cleared the stable, he turned and
shot a vindictive challenge to meet his pursuers.

" You won't take me alive — and dead, I won't go
alone ! "

He plunged forward in a northerly direction. Dimly
he could be seen through the underbrush ; but plainly
could be heard the crackling of branches and the
snapping of twigs as his horse whipped through the
low-lying foliage. Was there, then, another way to
[266]

The Outlaw's Last Stand

the mainland — other than the one over which John
son and Baker kept guard ? How could it be ? How
Langford longed for his good rifle and its carrying
power. But he knew how to use a pistol, too. Both
men sent menacing shots after the fugitive. Langford
could not account for the strange direction. The
only solution was that Black was leading his pursuers
a chase through the woods, hoping to decoy them
so deeply into the interior that he might, turning
suddenly and straightly, gain time for his desperate
sprint across the exposed stretch of sand. If this were
true, Baker and Johnson would take care of him there.

Black returned the fire vengefully. A bullet scraped
his horse's flank. His hat was shot from his head. He
turned savagely in his saddle with a yell of defiance.

" You '11 never take me alive ! "

The fusillade was furious, but the trees and branches
proved Black's friends. It was impossible to judge
one's aim aright. His horse staggered. Another bullet
sang and purred through the foliage, and the horse fell.

" My God, Jim ! " cried Langford. " My cartridges
are out ! Give me your gun ! "

For answer, Jim sent another bullet whistling for
ward. Black, rising from his fallen horse, fell back.

" I got him ! " yelled Jim, exultantly. He spurred
forward.

" Careful, Jim ! " warned Langford. " He may be
' playing possum,' you know."
[267]

Langford of the Three Bars

" You stay where you are," cried Jim. " You ain't
got no gun. Stay back, you fool Boss ! "

Langford laughed a little.

"You're the fool boy, Jim," he said. "Ill go
without a gun if you won't give me yours."

They rode cautiously up to the prostrate figure. It
was lying face downward, one arm outstretched on the
body of the dead horse, the other crumpled under the
man's breast. Blood oozed from under his shoulder.

"He's done for," said Jim, in a low voice. In the
presence of death, all hatred had gone from him. The
man apparently had paid all he could of his debts on
earth. The body lying there so low was the body of
a real man. Whatever his crimes, he had been a fine
type of physical manhood. He had never cringed.
He had died like a man, fighting to the last.

Jim slowly and thoughtfully slipped his revolver into
its holster and dismounted. Langford, too, sprang
lightly from his saddle.

Black had been waiting for this. His trained ear
had no sooner caught the soft rubbing sound of the
pistol slipping into its leathern case than he leaped to
his feet and stretched out the crumpled arm with its
deadly weapon pointing straight at the heart of
Langford of the Three Bars.

" Now, damn you, we 're quits ! " he cried, hoarsely.

There was not time for Jim to draw, but, agile as a
cat, he threw himself against Black's arm and the bullet
[268]

The Outlaw's Last Stand

went wild. For a moment the advantage was his, and
he wrested the weapon from Black's hand. It fell to the
ground. The two men grappled. The struggle was short
and fierce. Each strove with all the strength of his con
centrated hate to keep the other's hand from his belt.

When the feet of the wrestlers left the fallen weapon
free, Langford, who had been waiting for this opportu
nity, sprang forward and seized it with a thrill of
satisfaction. Command of the situation was once more
his. But the revolver was empty, and he turned to
throw himself into the struggle empty-handed. Jim
would thus be given a chance to draw.

At that moment, Black twisted his arm free and his
hand dropped like a flash to his belt, where there was a
revolver that was loaded. Jim hugged him closely, but
it was of no use now. The bullet tore its cruel way
through his side. His arms relaxed their hold — he
slipped — slowly — down — down. Black shook him
self free of him impatiently and wheeled to meet his
great enemy.

" Quits at last ! " he said, with an ugly smile.

Quits indeed ! For Jim, raising himself slightly,
was able to draw at last ; and even as he spoke, the
outlaw fell.

"Jim, my boy," said Langford, huskily. He was
kneeling, Jim's head in his arms.

" Well, Boss," said Jim, trying to smile. His eyes
were clear.

[269]

Langford of the Three Bars

" It was my affair, Jim, you ought not to have done
it," said Langford, brokenly.

" It "s all right — Boss — don 't you worry — I saw
you — in the hall that night. You are — the Boss.
Tell Mary so. Tell her I was — glad — to go — so
you could go to her — and it would be — all right.
She — loves you — Boss — • you need n't be afraid."

"Jim, I cannot bear it ; I must go in your stead."

" To Mary — yes." His voice sank lower and lower.
An added paleness stole over his face, but his eyes
looked into LangfoixTs serenely, almost happily.

" Go — to Mary in my stead — Boss," he whispered.
" Tell her Jim gave his Boss — to her — when he had
to go — tell her he was glad to go — I used to think it
was ' Mouse-hair ' — I am glad it is — Mary — tell her
good-bye — tell her the Three Bars would n't be the
same to Jim with a woman in it anyway — tell her — "

And with a sigh Jim died.

[270]

CHAPTER XXIII

THE PARTY AT THE LAZY S

MARY stared thoughtfully into the mirror. It
was a better one than the sliver into which she
had looked more than a year before, when Paul
Langford came riding over the plains to the Lazy S.
A better house had risen from the ashes of the home
stead laid waste by the cattle rustlers. Affairs were
well with George Williston now that the hand of no
man was against him. He prospered.

Louise stepped to the door.

" I am in despair, Mary,"" she said, whimsically.
" Mrs. White has ordered me out of the kitchen.
What do you think of that ? "

" Louise ! Did you really have the hardihood to
presume to encroach on Mother White's preserves —
you — a mere bride of five months1 standing? You
should be grateful she did n't take the broom to you."

"She can cook," said Louise, laughing. "I admit
that. I only offered to peel potatoes. When one stops
to consider that the whole county is coming to the
' house-warming ' of the Lazy S, one can't help being
worried about potatoes and such minor things."
[ 271 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

" Do you think the whole county is coming,
Louise ? " asked Mary.

" Of course," said Louise Gordon, positively, slipping
away again. She was a welcome guest at the ranch, and
her heart was in the success of to-night's party.

Mary had dressed early. As hostess, she had laid
aside her short skirt, leather leggings, and other boyish
" fixings " which she usually assumed for better ease in
her life of riding. She was clad simply in a long black
skirt and white shirt-waist. Her hair was coiled in
thick braids about her well-shaped head, lending her
a most becoming stateliness.

Would Paul Langford come ? He had been bidden.
Her father could not know that he would not care to
come. Her father did not know that she had sent
Langford away that long-ago night in December and
that he had not come back — at least to her. Nat
urally, he had been bidden first to George Williston's
'house-warming.' The men of the Three Bars and
of the Lazy S were tried friends — but he would not
care to come.

Listen ! Some one was coming. It was much too
soon for guests. The early October twilight was
only now creeping softly over the landscape. It was
a still evening. She heard distinctly the rhythmi
cal pound of hoof-beats on the hardened trail. Would
the rider go on to Kemah, or would he turn in at the
Lazy S ?

[272]

The Party at the Lazy S

" Hello, the house ! " hailed the horseman, cheerily,
drawing rein at the very door. " Hello, within ! "

The visitor threw wide the door, and Williston's
voice called cordially :

" Come in, come in, Langford ! I am glad you came
early." ,

" Will you send Mary out, Williston ? I need your
chore boy to help me water Sade here."

The voice was merry, but there was a vibrant tone in
it that made the listening girl tremble a little. Lang-
ford never waited for opportunities. He made them.

Mary came to the door with quiet self-composure.
She had known from the first the stranger was Langford.
How like the scene of a summer's day more than a year
past ; but how far sweeter the maid — how much more
it meant to the man now than then !

" Father, show Mr. Langford in," she said, smiling a
welcome. " I shall be glad to take Sade to the
spring."

She took hold of the bridle rein trailing to the
ground. Langford leaped lightly from his saddle.

" I said e help me,1 " he corrected.

" The spring is down there," she directed. " I think
you know the way." She turned to enter the house.

For an instant, Langford hesitated. A shadow fell
across his face.

" I want you to come, Mary," he said, simply. " It
is only hospitable, you know."
18 [ 273 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

" Oh, if you put it in that way — ," she started gayly
down the path.

He followed her more slowly. A young moon hung
in the western sky. The air was crisp with the coming
frost. The path was strewn with dead cottonwood
leaves which rustled dryly under their feet.

At the spring, shadowed by the biggest cottonwood,
she waited for him.

" I wish my father would cut down that tree," she
said, shivering.

" You are cold,"" he said. His voice was not quite
steady. He took off his coat and wrapped it around
her, despite her protests. He wanted to hold her then,
but he did not, though the touch of her sent the blood
bounding riotously through his veins.

" You shall wear the coat. I — do not want you to
go in yet."

" But Sade has finished, and people will be coming
soon.""

" I will not keep you long. I want you to — Mary,
my girl, I tried to kill Black, but — Jim — " his voice
choked a little — " if it had n't been for Jim, Black
would have killed me. I thought I could do it. I
meant to have you. Jim said it was all the same —
his doing it in my stead. I came to-night to ask you
if it is the same. Is it, Mary ? "

She did not answer for a little while. How still a
night it was ! Lights twinkled from the windows of
[274]

The Party at the Lazy S

the new house. Now and then a dry leaf rustled as
some one, the man, the girl, or the horse, moved.

" It is the same," she said at last, brokenly.

Her eyes were heavy with unshed tears. " But I
never meant it, Paul. I was wild that night, but I
never meant that you or — Jim should take life or —
or — give yours. I never meant it ! "

His heart leaped, but he did not touch her.

" Do you love me ? " he asked.

She turned restlessly toward the house.

"My father will be wanting me," she said. "I
must go."

" You shall not go until you have told me," he said.
" You must tell me. You never have, you know. Do
you love me ? "

" You have not told me, either," she resisted. " You
are not fair."

He laughed under his breath, then bent his sunny
head — close.

" Have you forgotten so soon ? " he whispered.

Suddenly, he caught her to him, strongly, as was
his way.

" I will tell you again," he said, softly. " I love you,
my girl, do you hear ? There is no one but you in all
the world."

The fair head bent closer and closer, then he kissed
her — the little man-coated figure in his arms.

" I love you," he said.

[ 275 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

She trembled in his embrace. He kissed her again.

" I love you," he repeated.

She hid her face on his breast. He lifted it gently.

" I tell you — I love you," he said.

He placed her arms around his neck. She pressed
her lips to his, once, softly.

" I love you," she whispered.

"My girl, my girl! "he said in answer. The con
fession was far sweeter than he had ever dreamed. He
held her cheek pressed close to his for a long moment.

" The Three Bars is waiting for its mistress," he said
at last, exultantly. "A mistress and a new foreman
all at once — the boys will have to step lively."

"A new foreman ? " asked Mary in surprise. " I did
not know you had a new foreman."

"I shall have one in a month," he said, smilingly.
" By that time, George Williston will have sold the
Lazy S for good money, invested the proceeds in cattle,
turned the whole bunch in to range with the Three Bars
herds, and on November first, he will take charge of
the worldly affairs of one Paul Langford and his wife,
of the Three Bars."

" Really, Paul ? " The brown eyes shone with
pleasure.

" Really, Mary."

" Has my father consented ? "

" No, but he will when he finds I cannot do without
him and when — I marry his daughter."
[276]

The Party at the Lazy S

Hoof-beats on the sod ! The guests were coming
at last. The beats rang nearer and nearer. From
Kemah, from the Three Bars trail, from across country,
they were coming. All the neighboring ranchmen and
homesteaders with their families and all the available
cowboys had been bidden to the frolic. The stable-
yard was filling. Hearty greetings, loud talking, and
laughter floated out on the still air.

Laughing like children caught in a prank, the two
at the spring clasped hands and ran swiftly to the
house. Breathless but radiant, Mary came forward to
greet her guests while Langford slipped away to put
up Sade.

The revel was at its highest. Mary and Louise were
distributing good things to eat and drink to the hun
gry cowmen. The rooms were so crowded, many stood
without, looking in at the doors and windows. The
fragrance of hot coffee drifted in from the kitchen.

Langford stood up. A sudden quiet fell upon the
people.

" Friends and neighbors," he said, " shall we drink to
the prosperity of the Lazy S, the health and happiness
of its master and its mistress ? "

The health was drunk with cheers and noisy con
gratulations. Conversation began again, but Langford
still stood.

" Friends and neighbors," he said again. His voice
was grave. "Let us drink to one — not with us
[ 277 ]

Langford of the Three Bars

to-night — a brave man — " in spite of himself his
voice broke — "let us drink to the memory of Jim
Munson."

Silently all rose, and drank. They were rough men
and women, most of them, but they were a people who
held personal bravery among the virtues. Many stood
with dimmed eyes, picturing that final scene on the
island in which a brave man's life had closed. Few
there would soon forget Jim Munson, cow-puncher of
the Three Bars.

There was yet another toast Langford was to propose
to-night. Now was the opportune time. Jim would
have wished it so. It was fitting that this toast follow
Jim's — it was Jim who had made it possible that it be
given. He turned to Mary and touched her lightly on
the shoulder.

" Will you come, Mary ? " he said.

She went with him, wonderingly. He led her to the
centre of the room. His arm fell gently over her
shoulders. Her cheeks flushed with the sudden knowl
edge of what was coming, but she looked at him with
perfect trust and unquestioning love.

" Friends and neighbors,11 his voice rang out so that
all might hear, " I ask you to drink to the health and
happiness of the future mistress of the Three Bars ! "

THE END

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